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“...Anywhoozle, that just about wraps up this episode for the week, my dudes! Thanks for sticking around — oh, but before we let you go, Martyn and I do have some important announcements to make. Y’see, we’re coming up quick on the end of this season for the show after another full year of great discussions, and afterwards we’re planning on going on hiatus for a little while, working out some stuff behind the scenes about the future of this show, you know how it is. But don’t get too sad, because we have good news too! We wanted to wrap things up with a little gift for you all, and so for the first time in this podcast’s history, we’re getting out from behind the mic and getting our butts in front of a camera! Exciting, right? The finale of this season is gonna be our first ever video special, where Martyn and I are gonna be spending a weekend camping and taking you all at home along with us for the trip!”
“Yep, they’re letting us go wild in the woods! Basically, we managed to convince our producers to pay us to go on vacation to send this show off with a bang; Ren’s idea, of course, but I did all the talking. Finally letting us out of the studio for a bit, which is nice, because I was getting sick of sleeping under my desk. Kept bumping my head and knocking the mic over, every frickin’ morning.”
[Ren laughs]
“It’s pretty exciting, my dudes! We’re going to be doing our first ever YouTube special! We’re not just vacationing for the weekend, oh no. We’re going to be going out into the woods and doing a mini-series with all sorts of topics, from sustainable foraging, best practices while camping, and ways you guys at home can venture out and learn about your very own local wildlife. But, yeah, I mean, we are sort of getting to go on vacation. Which is a pretty sweet deal, I gotta say.”
“Of course, a segment like that, and the last few years or so of this whole podcast, wouldn’t be possible without the help of our sponsors; and this week’s episode is brought to you by iBuy…”
The cameras had stopped rolling hours ago, packed away safely into the vans up in the parking lot. Dusk rolled over the woods quickly, especially with autumn creeping in; it’d been cloudy much of the day, but right around sunset the sun had broken through at the horizon and shone brilliant orange over the lake. Ren was pretty sure the crew had gotten some very nice shots of that, and of him and Martyn watching it. It’d be a great scene to end the videos on. Impactful.
They had enough footage from the weekend for a good, solid finale. He wouldn’t be able to see any of it until they got back into the studio on Monday, and then he could start watching it back, editing, working in the various cuts and music, finalizing the video title and description—he already had a few ideas for the thumbnail, maybe. They’d taken some pretty nice pictures with the huge shelf mushrooms Martyn had found earlier, and he was sure the footage of him calf-deep in the water trying to catch fish with his bare hands would be good for something—
Ren breathed a slow sigh as he stared out at the water again, now dark and midnight-blue like the skies above. Every so often, the moon peeked through the clouds and sparkled silver on the lake. In front of him, the campfire crackled merrily, smoke rising up through the canopy of the forest far overhead.
From somewhere behind him, footsteps crunched through underbrush and fallen leaves. Ren’s ears perked at the sound.
“I’ll give you a sausage if you tell me what’s eating you,” Martyn offered. He’d just returned from the van with a small bag of food and sat down on the log next to Ren, setting the bag at his feet.
“What, my charm and good looks aren’t enough to earn your sausage?”
“Wow, alright. At least offer to cook me dinner first,” Martyn teased, and Ren felt a touch of warmth to his cheeks. “But seriously, what’s got you looking all grumpy and pensive? Fess up.”
Ren sighed again, albeit much more for show this time. “Eh, nothing much. Or, I mean… well. All the work we have coming to finish up the series, everything waiting for us back at the office on Monday. All the editing and promotion, and the phone calls, and paperwork. And, y’know,” Ren grimaced, tail curling close to his leg, “...breaking the news to our producers.”
“Mmmh,” Martyn nodded, glancing over at him. “Worried about how they’re gonna take it?”
“Yeah. You know the network isn’t gonna make it easy on us, dude.”
“You know how I feel about that. They can suck it, for all I care,” Martyn scoffed. “All the shit they’ve put us through the last few years? All the bullshit contracts and ‘public image’ stuff? All your ideas they kept shooting down? If anything, they should be worried about me taking it easy on them as soon as we’re out of there.”
Despite himself, Ren laughed. He went to lean back on the log, but overbalanced and nearly fell off. Martyn snorted, reaching out to help catch him. His hand was warm and solid on Ren’s back, and Ren murmured his thanks. The campfire was making his face feel hot again, dang it.
“…I suppose it all just feels so much more real, all of a sudden,” Ren continued. “Like this is it. This is our last night before it all really kicks into gear. We go back on Monday, we tell em we’re moving on, get everything settled and then, well. Then what? We’ll have to build our new show from the ground up, all by ourselves. We won’t really have time to even breath until who-knows-when. Won’t have time for just… us. Er,” Ren cleared his throat, “ourselves. You know what I mean.”
“I get it,” Martyn said, rooting around in his bag. “But you know, it’s all going to be worth it. You said it yourself—as soon as we made the decision to leave, it was the most relief you’d felt in months, right? And you know we aren’t going this alone. Hell, Skizz already told us he’s a hundred percent on board to follow us if we set out on our own, we have a ton of old guests who I’m sure would love to come back. And, of course, we’ve got each other.” Martyn grinned, nudging Ren in the side as he opened the package of sausages.
“Yeah,” Ren mumbled, giving him a small smile. He gazed out at the campsite: the towering canopy of trees, the stony lakeshore, the crackling fire sending sparks into the velvet-dark sky above. Words still sat in his throat, uncomfortable. Like a rock in his shoe.
“I suppose I’m just… I’m worried if this was the right choice; not just for me, but for the rest of the crew. I know a bunch of them are gonna come with us, and… what if we fail?” Ren hesitated, frowning. “What if the audience doesn’t come with us, and the show crumbles?”
What if I’m screwing it all up for us, for you, he wanted to ask, would you still stand with me? If we lose the show, will we still have each other?
“I mean, that’s always a risk, isn’t it? We know we’re playing it dangerous by leaving the company, we’ve all been in the podcasting business long enough to know it’s rough out there,” Martyn said, shrugging. He grabbed two carved sticks from the stack next to the firepit, handing one to Ren. “But it’s not like I’d have made literally any other choice in this scenario.”
“Hah, I know. The execs and you have been butting heads for years.”
“True, true. But, y’know, more than that, I meant leaving with you; we’ve been friends for long enough, you should know this by now. It’s you and me to the end of this mess, buddy. All the way.”
The words made something glow warm in Ren’s chest, made his heart stutter. He supposed did know that—but it was nice hearing Martyn reaffirm it again. All the way.
“Anyways,” Martyn continued, oblivious to the slow wag of Ren’s tail as he skewered a sausage on his stick, “I hope you’re not getting cold feet on me, because I’ve already written up a very colorfully-worded note to leave on the CEO’s desk that I’m quite proud of, and I do not want it going to waste.”
Ren laughed again, deeper and more genuine this time.
“...And, honestly. I don’t want to leave you behind there. I don’t want to do a show like this with anyone else, really,” Martyn said. Ren blinked, turning to look at him fully. There was something in the way he didn’t look up from the fire when he said it, the deliberately casual tone. Like the admittance meant far more than he wanted to say.
In the firelight, Martyn’s hair was coppery-bright. His cheeks were slightly flushed from the heat, his eyes dark and glittering from the reflected flames. Although, sure, he was a little disheveled—they’d had a long day of filming, and neither of them had had a proper shower all weekend, and there was dirt under his nails and grass-stains on his trousers. He wore a ragged, stained old jacket that Ren had given him when the temperature started dropping earlier, and it was far too large on him, and the red flannel fabric clashed with his green sweatshirt. And Ren thought he was beautiful. He always did.
His heart ached. He wanted, not for the first time, to kiss him.
He cleared his throat, dragging his eyes away from Martyn before he was caught staring—his sunglasses were tucked into the front of his shirt, the campsite too dark to justify wearing them.
“I wouldn’t either, dude. Wouldn’t be the same without you making fun of me all the time.”
Martyn laughed, the brief spell broken. “Wouldn’t be the same without the good old Ren Diggity-Dog there to make fun of!”
Ren heaved an exaggerated wounded sigh, but couldn’t keep the smile from his face even as he did. He took the sausage pack from the bag at Martyn’s feet, inspecting them curiously. “Are these just… cheap store-bought sausages?”
“Yup. Sorry, but after all the foraging we’ve done and all the plants we’ve eaten this weekend, we deserve something terribly greasy.”
“Fair enough!”
They lapsed into a cozy silence, watching the sizzling sausages roast over the campfire. Nocturnal insects chirped in a gentle chorus, and further into the trees, back at the tent site, someone cheered and laughed; it sounded like Skizz and Impulse were up to something again. It was comfortable, familiar.
Ren rolled his stick between callus-roughened fingers, lost in thought. There was still that rock in his shoe.
“So, uh,” he started, stumbling over his words, “when you say, like, all the way. Does that— I mean,” Ren felt his ears press flat. He’d already screwed this up, dangit, but nowhere to go but forward. “I mean, if the show does fail. If we don’t have this whole thing goin’ for us anymore…”
He trailed off. His leg bounced against the hard-packed dirt ground, undoubtedly making the whole log shake a little. Will you still want to be friends? Will you still want to find excuses to spend time together outside the recording booth, outside the late-night editing sessions, outside the lunch breaks spent in your car? Will you still have a reason to keep me around?
“...what are you gonna do from there?” he finished, half-heartedly.
“Uh,” Martyn looked equal parts confused and amused, glancing sideways at Ren. “Dunno yet, really. Still not entirely sure how I got this far, to be honest.”
“Right.”
“But whatever it is, yeah; all the way. Maybe we start a band together or something. Or we could go ask Lizzie if she wants some help around the farm. God, I’d be a terrible farmer, though. I bet you’d do great, though, all those animals.”
“Oh,” Ren blinked, staring into the fire. Oh.
And Martyn said it so easily too, was the thing. Like it didn’t mean the world to hear, like Ren’s heart wasn’t trying to escape his chest.
“Er—” Martyn suddenly looked slightly awkward, and coughed, turning his face away from the smoke. “I mean. If you want to, of course. I dunno if you have some other grand plans if this all goes up balls-up. But if you end up wanting to run while you still can—”
“No!” Ren interrupted, almost frantic. “No, never. Martyn, I—”
Ren turned on the log to face him, and Martyn looked up at the same time, startled by the outburst. And quite suddenly, they were very close; Ren’s arm was pressed up against Martyn’s, their shoulders bumping. He was close enough to see the clear blue of Martyn’s eyes, the way his gaze flicked just slightly down before back up to his own eyes. He could catch his scent, just barely there under the heavy woodsmoke and cooking sausages and the forest around them, and it was familiar as it had always been over the last several years. Like coming home.
Neither of them leaned away. Neither of them seemed like they wanted to move.
Ren took a shaky breath, unable to tear his eyes from Martyn’s face as he whispered, “I love you, dude. I really do.”
And then it was Martyn who moved first, closing the short distance between them. Ren shut his eyes, head spinning and heart pounding.
As far as kisses went, admittedly, it wasn’t great. Martyn’s lips were slightly chapped, and Ren’s torso was twisted at an odd angle, and after a few seconds the wind direction changed to start blowing smoke in their faces, and they broke apart coughing and waving it away. But neither of them could stop grinning, and Ren’s tail wagged behind him fast enough to kick up a small breeze.
As far as kisses went, it had been perfect.
“God,” Martyn said, shifting down the log with Ren to avoid the smoke, “God. Do you know how long I’ve—like, I kind of don’t want to admit how long I’ve wanted to do that. It’s a little embarrassing how long I’ve been thinking about doing that.”
“Oh, my dude, don’t even get me started. I’ve been sitting here all night, all weekend, even… Remember how I kept messing up while pitching the tents? You kept, er, bending over like that—”
“Wowww. You really are down bad, huh.”
“Hey!”
“Your sausage is burning, by the way.”
“Ah—”
Ren scrambled to get the sausage out of the fire, blowing on it and, when that failed, waving it around frantically… until it fell off his stick, and onto the ground. The flames on the charred sausage died as it rolled through the dirt, and Ren heaved a disappointed, weary sigh.
“Well. We all have our highest highs and lowest lows, my dude.”
Martyn had nearly doubled-over from laughter, and despite himself Ren chuckled as well, finding his humor contagious. When Martyn finally recovered, he pulled his stick of sausages from the fire, sizzling and perfectly-cooked. He grabbed a napkin from the bag, carefully plucking one of the two from his stick. He offered it to Ren, who took it gladly.
It was, frankly, delicious. Charred and smoky and hot, bursting with flavor (and indeed with grease, which Ren ended up licking from his own hand). It was a perfect meal to end the trip on, and better yet still for who he shared it with.
The two of them sat on the log together, Ren pressed up close to Martyn’s side, and spoke in low voices for another few hours afterwards. Quiet affection finally bubbled over into proper confessions after all these years: all the times they’d wanted something more, and all the hesitations they’d had about ruining the show, ruining their brand, ruining their friendship. All the fears they were no longer bound by. All the possibilities that awaited them going forward.
Eventually, it was getting cold, and the fire was burning low. Most the crew had already headed off for the hotel they’d rented, rather than spend another night in the tents. Those brave few that had elected to stay had already settled in, leaving just the two hosts to clean up the cooking site.
After dousing the fire, and properly storing their food items in the cooler back at the van, they finally made the hike back to their tents. Without the campfire to chase off the chill, Ren was starting to shiver; he’d be grateful to get cozy in his sleeping bag.
They got ready for bed with quiet whispers and a dimmed lantern, shuffling around their tent. Ren was just about to shimmy into his sleeping bag when he paused.
“Martyn?”
“Hm?” Martyn looked up from where he was halfway cocooned already, headband folded away for the night and dressed in a warm hoodie to sleep. It was hard to see much more than a vague silhouette of him in the dark, but Ren knew his face well enough already.
“...Can I kiss you again?”
Martyn grinned at him in the dark, and reached forward to tug him down by the front of his shirt. Ren went down easily, sinking into the kiss. Martyn’s lips were warm, and he smelled like campfire smoke and cut wood and the autumn leaves outside, and it was perfect. He was perfect.
Wild Life Episode 1: What Next?
“Well, folks, this is it; welcome to Wild Life, the brand new weekly podcast with some faces — or, well, voices that may or may not be familiar to you! If you’ve been following Martyn and I in our previous work, you may already know the gist of this whole thing, but let me give you all a run-down in case we’ve got any newbies in our audience. Y’see, Wild Life is a passion project by myself and Mr. Littlewood here—”
“‘Allo everyone—”
“—since we decided to set out on a new journey as independent creators together. We’ve been in the podcasting game for a good few years together now, and we felt it was time to find a space where we can really put down some roots, you know what I’m saying? So we decided to make it for ourselves, and we’re hoping that with the support of our crew, our wonderful guests, and of course our amazing fan community this little conservation show of ours can grow into something that feels truly special!”