[identity profile] you-legwarmers.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] wl_fanfiction
Title: Ten Days
Genre: Friendship; drama.
Characters: Ryan, Colin, Jeff, Greg, Wayne, Brad
Pairings: None for this chapter (yet)
Summary: Surviving ten days in the wilderness is hard for one person. But with six, it's next to impossible.
Disclaimer: No offense intended, of course. I'm not related to nor am I affiliated with the men of Whose Line.

"Camping. Jesus. We're none of us younger than forty and there's not even a goddamn audience to cheer on our hilarious antics." Greg was no more irate than the others were, but he was not the least bit hesitant in expressing his discontent. He never had been.

"It's definitely one of Dan's weirder ideas," agreed Wayne, feeling the need to be semi-polite at least. Dan Patterson was largely responsible for each of their successes in the entertainment world and was yet to be proven wrong when it came to business. But that didn't mean any of them were thrilled at the prospect of a so-called "promotional" overnight trip.

The idea was that the show, with it's re-appearance to television and rapidly growing, generally young audience, needed more publicity. Live shows weren't doing the trick anymore. They needed "credible bonding to illustrate what it means to be a performer" (Mark Leveson's words). So thanks to the inspiration from reality TV shows (Dan still never ceased to be amazed at the miniscule attention span of Americans), the prospect of a filmed camping trip arose. A night in the wilderness; no technology save one sole camera to document anything viewers might find interesting.

Naturally, this thrilled none of the actors, least of all Ryan, who threatened to feed Brad to a bear if he had to sleep on the ground at any point.
Apparently none the executives suffered chronic back pain, because every possible problem that could have gotten any of them out of the trip was brought up and promptly shot down with irritatingly logical solutions.

"It's nothing but a hyper-masculine slumber party," observed Greg, whose main concern was the possible depletion of his personal vodka stash.

"That's a bad thing?" said Jeff, focusing more on cramming as many Tweets in as possible before the bus picked them up than on the conversation. The exact location of their camp was kept a secret. None of them knew why.

"I'll tell you one thing," Ryan said, already gulping down three Advil in preparation, "Chip Esten is the smartest man in the world for bailing while he still could."

"That's my title, kitten, and Chip has no claim to it." Greg's overused yet somehow still funny joke brought halfhearted groans. Ryan was joking, they knew. The show was everything to them. And Chip had admitted he missed it. But the bastard got to skip out on tents and insects, something that would take awhile to forgive.

"Thank God I've built up immunity to pine trees, wild animals, and cold nighttime temperatures," smirked Colin, breaking the lull. He hadn't yet stopped basking in the irony. Twenty-something years of enduring Canadian jokes from his friends, and karma had finally reared its ugly head. He earned several glares, as well as a finger from Brad.

Ryan wasn't pissed at Colin in the least. Not for the gloating (after all, he was technically Canadian too), not for the relatively strong back when his own was burdened by a near-constant pain, and not for the absences that seemed to come for longer and longer stretches these days. They--the two of them-- needed this.

Okay, he'd never admit it, and different circumstances would certainly have been preferable, but Ryan was incredibly grateful for this stupid trip.

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