Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

     Eventually, you're all told what your challenge will be today; jumping off a huge cliff and into a circle of buoys below. Everyone gets changed into swimsuits, yourself included. You have a black wetsuit on. Not revealing, but it fits you well, clinging to your hips.

"Any volunteers to go first?" Chris pipes up. You step forward.

"I wanna go ahead and get it over with."

Chris looks a little impressed, giving you a nod to go ahead. You lean into his ear. "I have blood pressure problems, so if I pass out midair don't freak out." You whisper.

"Got it." Chris replies, a little amused.

"Go in front of the crowd and jump, kay?"

"Yep." You go to the cliff, looking down. "Do I have to land in that circle of uh. Floatie things down there?" you ask.

"Yep!"

You jump off, falling through the air. You enjoy the rush of adrenaline as you fall. Your ears pop as you go faster and faster. Ah, shit. You forgot about how sensitive your ears are to elevation. It's why you never go on planes. Fuck, that shit hurts. Your ears feel like they have water in them and you haven’t even hit the water yet.

Oh, well. Luckily, you land in the circle, and you're still conscious. You sputter up to the surface, giving a thumbs up to the people on the cliff before swimming to shore. One by one, people chicken out or jump. And eventually, you move on to the next phase of the challenge.

The team that had the least amount of people miss the target or chicken out gets wheelbarrows to carry crates. The other team has to carry them themselves. You, unfortunately, are stuck on the team with no wheelbarrow. To everyone's surprise, despite the goth way you dress and the way you act so fruity, you're pretty strong. You pick up one of the crates easily.

You all carry the crates back to camp, and, even though your muscles aren't tired, you can feel your low blood pressure problems start to affect you. You feel like you're suffocating, and your face goes pale, but you push through it, continuing to carry your crate back to camp. You're on the screaming gophers' team, and the rest of them trail behind you, eventually catching up. You're shaking by the time you get back to camp, dropping your crate and taking out your water bottle, guzzling it.

"Shit, are you okay?" Leshawna asks. "You're pale."

"Yeah," you say. "Well, no. But I can deal with it." You do your best to get some rest before     Chris comes by on his four wheeler again. You're told you'll be building a hot tub, and you're pretty good at building, so you do your best to coordinate with everyone. In the end, you have a pretty stable tub, but by the time Chris says you're both done, you haven't gotten the water heater hooked up properly yet. You fiddle with it for a few seconds more while he's still busy checking out the other team's hot tub. Heart hammering, your jimmy and screw the plastic hose into place, feeling the adrenaline course through you at how loud the tube is when you finally connect it. You fist pump after getting it connected, jumping back before Chris can see that you were tampering with the project past the allotted time.

Chris finally meanders over to your guys' tub to inspect it. He looks down into it and then gives you a thumbs up.

"Good job, guys!" The gophers all cheer as he takes his leave. He stands between the two. "Well, for the final part of the challenge, whoever built the best hot tub was going to get to keep it. Buttt.." He squints. "They look about the same! So, what I'm gunna do-" and, just as he's about to take out a coin to flip, the poorly secured hose on your hot tub comes loose, spraying boiling water at your leg.

"Fuck! Shit!" You rush backward, holding your leg without touching the burn "Fuck!"

Chris blinks. "Nevermind; Killer bass win." The other team cheers as your teammates rush to you, concerned. Your leg is bright red and it stings. You're definitely gonna have blisters.

"Make sure he gets medical attention after we're done." Chris says to Chef.

"You okay dawg?" Owen asks. You whimper.

"Not really, fuck, ow-"

"Just take a Tylenol and you'll be fine." Heather says. "Shut the fuck up." You snap at her.

"Jeez, someone's grumpy." She says. "What a baby."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, daddy's girl. Take your fake personality and fake tits and go be unpleasant somewhere else."

Heather's face twists up into rage as it heats up, looking the same color as your leg. Chris grins, eagerly leaning forward to observe the drama. You ask Owen to help you up. He does, and as soon as you're upright, you limp over to a stump: a far better place to sit than the grass. You avoid further conflict, ignoring her bitching in the background as you stare at the ground, holding your leg gingerly and looking at the damage. A large portion of the front of your shin is bright red, and several skin bubbles full of liquid have already started to develop. The burn stings, but it isn't unbearable. From experience, you know that popping them leaves you with a much easier-to-deal with scab, but you refrain at the moment.

Your hands and leg are dirty, you don't want an infection. For now, you just sit and wait for the teams to clear out. Chris and chef approach you. 

"Sorry, man. That looks like it sucks. Also, you didn't get it from me, but-" he leans down into your ear. "Keep up the tension with Heather. I want to exploit that shit for views." 

You roll your eyes. "Watch it," you say, jokingly. Chef tends to your leg, disinfecting it and spraying it with something soothing. You grab Chris by the collar, keeping him close. "I'll do as I damn well please, but.." You trail off, getting distracted by his lips and stubble. "But yeah, fine. Not like I was planning on making it up to her." You say, letting him go. You jokingly push him, and the taller man only laughs. 

"I was hoping you'd see it my way." he says, grinning devilishly. You roll your eyes, hissing as Chef turns your leg to see if any other part of you is burned. Eventually, he decides he's satisfied and leaves you two. The camera crew follows to see people settling into their cabins, leaving you with a moment alone with Chris. 

"So," he begins. "You're a podcast maker and YouTuber, right?" You slowly nod.

".. Why?" 

"Oh, just thinking you could do me a favor and give the show a shoutout is all. Maybe do an ad." 

"Oh," you say. "uh, sure! I mean, yeah definitely. My viewers need something while I'm away from my pc anyways," you say, trying to play it cool. 

"Great," Chris smiles. 

There's a small silence as you feel your face heat up. You two are awfully close. You look up at the older man, flustered. Your heart flutters at the idea of doing his show a favor. You try to keep your cool by making eye contact. "Well, uh. I'll just-" you stand. "I think it's about time I go to bed." 

"Oh, sure. Yeah, you need your rest and all."

"Thanks for patching me up," you pat Chef's shoulder as you hobble your way to the cabin.

He waves, then calls back. "Anytime, kid."

You wave back, entering the cabin. You get unpacked before brushing your teeth and going to bed.

Chapter Text

You wake up to the sun in your eyes and scowl, covering your head with a blanket. Your leg duly throbs, and you groan, trying to ignore it. 

Eventually the discomfort of having to pee outweighs the comfort of being in your bed, and you drag yourself out, heading over to the communal bathrooms. 

You suddenly feel lightheaded and out of breath and you curse, finding a place on the floor to sit down. Damn it, you got up too fast. Your head is buzzing and you can't think. You struggle to breathe for a few moments. 

Geoff walks in, seeing you pale and on the floor. 

"What's the matter, brah? You don't look so good."

"I'm... I'm fine." You say, sitting up straight before giving up and completely laying on the floor. "I just have issues passing out."

He still looks concerned. "Anything I can do?" He asks. 

"Not really. I just sort of have to lay down or sit down and wait for it to go away."

Harold walks in as well, seeing you on the floor. "Woah! You good?" You sigh, not wanting to explain it fifty times when you're struggling to breathe. "Problems passing out." You say, huffing.

Harold has a look of recognition on his face, going over to the sink to brush his teeth. Geoff steps into one of the shower stalls, exiting himself from the situation. 

Harold speaks up. "Yeah, I get that. I have anemia, I take supplements now so I don't have problems with that anymore."

"Mine is a blood pressure thing." You say.

Harold nods in understanding. "Makes sense." He says, before going back to brushing his teeth.

You both hear Geoff screech when he turns on the water and it's cold. "Ah! Fuck, jesus-" he continues complaining as you and Harold laugh.

 "Thanks for warming it up for me, bud!" You shout.

"You're welcome!" He laughs, thinking his reaction silly. Eventually you all get done in there, and you make sure to be extra careful to stay hygienic, showering and doing skincare. Hygiene is important, especially when staying at an unsanitary summer camp.

You shuffle Into the mess hall, and Chef is leering at everyone, as usual. He's serving something that looks... grey. You get yourself a serving. "Do you uh, have any salt?" You ask. 

Chef maintains his sneer, and for a moment you think you've upset him before he just hands you a salt shaker. 

You accept it, thanking him before walking off. Thankfully, you're not picky. You'll probably eat anything if it's got enough salt on it. You work your way through your breakfast, masking the faint greasy and yet mushy taste with salt, periodically taking large drinks of water. Eventually you manage to shovel it all down there, before taking up your tray and leaving the mess hall. Chris is nowhere to be seen. Makes sense, the camera crews are really only supposed to be here on Fridays, the days you guys have a challenge and vote someone off. 

You're fine with that. You head on over to the beach, sitting under a nice tree to have a nap.

You don't end up actually sleeping, but you do end up feeling very sleepy and out of it, the heat making you want to stretch ouy like a cat and daydream. Your head feels fuzzy as you slide down the trunk of the tree, slowly losing your posture. A strained voice jolts you out of your sleepy stupor. 

"Yo! _____!" Gwen calls out. "How's your leg?" 

You blink, struggling to form words after being so relaxed. "Er- I uh, good? No. I mean, it hurts, but it's not too distracting thankfully." You look down at your leg. You've always had a high pain tolerance, anyways. You have one of your pantlegs rolled up so it's not touching the blister. 

"Thanks," You say, referring to her checking up on you, which seemed out of character for her, as she doesn't really socialize with the other campers, you've observed so far. Leshawna trails not far behind, and you get up, approaching the two girls. 

You all chat for a bit, talking about your hopes for where the show will go, your opinions on the other campers, staying here, and then, unfortunately, you circle around to the topic of the host himself. 

"Soo.. what do you guys think of Chris?" Leshawna says, respectful distaste evident in her voice. Gwen, apparently very opinionated already, immediately pipes up. "I think he's doing this just for ratings. Did you see that water? It totally had sharks in it!" You can't disagree, he doesn't seem to have a particular regard for your guys's personal safety besides keeping you all alive to avoid lawsuits, but because of your... sentiments, your brain has just.. conveniently placed that fact to the side.

They both look to you, silently asking for your opinion. You have issues understanding gestures, so it takes you a moment. "Uh." You say, eloquently. "I don't know. He's chill, I guess. He's just doing his job." It's not exactly the most truthful answer, but it's not like they're left the wiser. 

You do your best to keep a straight face as your heart palpitates. You should get that checked out by a doctor. "So. Leshawna?"

"I don't know yet, but I do know that I'm totally gonna kick your butts and win this." She says. 

"That's fair. I'm just here for fun." You state, looking down at the sand. And to ogle at Chris, but you don't say that out loud.

"Well, I'm gonna go swim, I'll see you guys later!" Gwen says. 

"Bye, ____!" 

"See ya."

You and Leshawna sit on the beach for a bit, chatting about other things. Thankfully, the topic of Chris is only briefly mentioned afterwards. 

Eventually you get bored and meander off to find things to do. "Man," You think. "Things are gonna be boring when we're not filming. We're literally just at a summer camp."

You wander into the woods, enjoying the smell of the pine. Sticks crunch underfoot as you tromp over the dirt, balancing on logs and stopping to look at mushrooms. This won't be so bad, you suppose. Mushrooms are pretty cool. 

Once again you find a suitable place you think you won't be disturbed. This time, you sit down, taking out your phone and absorbing yourself in youtube videos. You take a small vlog, describing how much fun you're having so far. You'd told your fans that you'd be gone for awhile while you're on the show, but you still wanted to give them something to watch before you do the promo ad with Chris. 

And, speak of the devil, you hear a stick crack behind you. "Hey," Chris greets. You nearly jump out of your skin before laughing, and gesturing to your phone recording. 

"Hey Chris, just er, doing a vlog. Didn't think anyone would find me out here." You say, scratching the back of your head. 

Chris agrees. "They wouldn't. I used the cameras." 

"Oh." You flush, thinking about you messing around on the logs and looking at the mushrooms. You get embarrassed, but mention nothing of it. 

"Well," You say, turning off your camera. "Speaking of cameras, would you have any better equipment I can use to make the promo?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. I was just coming to get you, we already got everything set up. You know, if you wanna go ahead and say your piece." 

"Yeah! Yeah, I do. Er, lead the way." 

Chris steps back, revealing a four wheeler. He mounts it before gesturing for you to do the same. "Hop on," 

You slide onto the cushy seat, and, since there are no backrests and you're too pussy to hold onto Chris, you anchor yourself down, clenching your thighs onto the vehicle as you hold onto the seat with your hands.

You end up holding onto him anyways, lurching forward to instinctually wrap your arms around his torso as he drives you. If he's bothered, he doesn't say anything, so you decide not to mention it as your face heats up against his back. 

Eventually, you arrive at a small tent, and walking inside you find some pretty schweet recording equipment. You whistle. "This all yours, or is it the show's?" You ask, looking it over. 

"Just mine," Chris replies, opening up a recording software on a laptop as he turns on the cameras, giving you a nod to sit on a stool in front of the lenses. 

You sit carefully, blinking at the equipment before taking a deep breath. 

It takes a few tries, but you get there eventually, coming up with a funny and engaging promo for the show. Your fans don't watch you for drama, but they know that, according to most of your antics, you happen to love it, so hopefully even if they're not interested in the personal goings on of the other cast members, they'll at the very least enjoy your shenanigans. 

"Alright!" Chris grins. "That was great, good job!" 

You fluster about for a moment, not expecting someone who's usually neutral/negative towards the contestants to congratulate you. You accept it, reluctantly. "Ah.. thank you." You say, getting up off of the stool. 

"Don't let anybody know, but.. you have my full permission to raid the fridge." He says. "Consider it a thank you. I thought you'd appreciate it," He winks, poking you in your soft middle. You bark a laugh, not expecting it. You grin. "Much appreciated, actually. You're very correct. I can stand what chef cooks, but I'd prefer not to eat it all the time."

Your conversation with Chris lasts awhile, you taking the opportunity to get to know him a little better without reading cheesy tabloids. It ends with you heading back out to your spot in the middle of the forest.

The next few days, you spend with some of your new friends. Harold, for instance, you immediately took a liking to. Gwen and Leshawna, too. Duncan was cool, he reminds you a lot of some of your family members. You all hang out individually, sometimes grouping together whenever you all happen to be in the same vicinity. You and Harold talk a lot about psychology and spirituality, you and duncan talk about how the punk scene is really diluted to just fashion instead of anarchy, and you and the girls talk about some comforts you miss of home. 

Before you know it, it's Thursday. The day before your next challenge. It's dinnertime, but instead of going to the mess hall like the others, you sneak off to the tent that Chris took you to while recording the promo for the show. You find something more substantial to eat, knowing that the sludge in the cafeteria won't be a good preparation for the trials of tomorrow.

You make yourself a nice sandwich, thankful for Chris's offer. You sit down on the couch with it, relaxing into the furniture as you eat.

You eat the sandwich, and sink into the couch with your phone in your hand, quietly scrolling through social media. You don't realize it, but eventually you nod off, and Chris meanders in, finding you asleep on the couch with your phone in your hand.

He observes you for a moment, looking over your eyes and mouth, and how they look relaxed, expressionless. He lingers for a few moments before carefully approaching you and shaking your shoulder. "Hey kid," He says, quietly. You only furrow your eyebrows and wrinkle your nose, looking displeased. He laughs airily before shaking you again, more forceful this time. "Hey kid, wake up."

You slowly open your eyes, looking up at him. "... mh.. mmh?" You sit up. "Oh! uh, hi- I came in for something to eat, I didn't realize i had, er.." Your words trail off as he progressively looks more amused. ".. dozed off." 

He smiles at you, leaning down and crossing his arms. "You may want to get to bed, then." 

You get up. "Yeah," You say, embarrassed. "Yeah. I'll just, uh." and you leave, without finishing your sentence. 

 When you get back to your cabin, you collapse onto your pillows and hide your burning face.