And here we are; my first Total Drama fanfiction! This is a Gwuncan (My OTP! :3), and is set during TDA. Also, there are two minor OCs, who won't play much of a role, and are just there for the sake of the story. This story really just explores the Duncan*Gwen friendship, and how the relationship morphed into something more.
Chris McLean looked fabulous. But like all sexy men, this fabulousness took money (Just ask Justin); what with the dermatologist and the costume designer and the make-up artist and the hair-care specialist. Of course, that led to the problem of faulty sets, possibly fatal challenges and terrible living conditions for his campers – ahem, crew. Not that any of that mattered. Those kids were sturdy enough to not need the luxuries hat Chris enjoyed. Or, at least he liked to think that.
What was a problem, though, was the camera equipment. Because of budget cuts, there simply weren't enough hidden cameras to record the participants when they were at their most embarrassing. Only half of their entire new venue had been covered; the rest was filled with old sets that they wouldn't be using for the challenges. That was supposed to mean that the contestants wouldn't go there, but you never knew teenage kids.
So, Chris McLean, being the really hot genius that he was, had come up with a simple solution.
He leaned back in his plush swivel chair, his feet propped up on his mahogany table (note; get intern to polish table), surveying the two people before him – a boy and a girl, who looked like they were in their late teens or early twenties. They were nothing spectacular; blue eyed brunettes, the girl's hair in a longish pixie cut, and the boy's close cropped. But even though their faces looked exactly the same, their general appearance was pretty different. The girl had two piercings in each ear, and wore a deep purple tank top and ripped black jeans, with red high-top Converse and lots of bracelets on her wrists. She also had on heavy eyeliner that emphasized the blue of her irises. The boy, on the other hand, was much more clean-cut. He was dressed in a simple white button-down over a grey undershirt, and wore faded jeans with sneakers. The girl was slouching, idly studying her purple nails, while the boy stood tall and straight, his alert eyes on Chris.
"So," said Chris finally, looking down at the sheet in his hand, "Camilla and Michael, huh?"
"Yeah," said the girl, Camilla.
"Cam and Mike," mused Chris, then chuckled, "Get it? Cam and Mike? As in, camera and microphone?"
He surveyed their blank faces, and rolled his eyes, "Geez, you guys are hopeless. Oh, well, it's a good thing I'm not paying you that much."
"You aren't paying us anything," Cam pointed out, and Chris grinned.
"Exactly!" he exclaimed, "Now if you do your job well, I'll double your pay!"
"But you aren't –"
"What are we supposed to do?" Mike interrupted his sister, shooting her a waning glance, "You didn't specify."
"Oh, about that," said Chris, "You know how this is a reality show, and we're supposed to show you every tiny bit about these teens' personal lives, and give them no privacy?"
The twins nodded, and he continued;
"Well, your job is to use this," he held up a video-camera, "And follow them around and rob them of whatever privacy they attempt to gain. By sneaking of set, or whatever. I want good stuff, capisce?"
They nodded again, and Mike took the camera. Chris shot them a winning smile.
"Make me proud, interns!"
Duncan was bored. He realized, being on a show that put you in imminent danger all the time probably should have been reason enough to keep him on his toes, but hey, he couldn't help it. Maybe it was because they were only two days into the competition? It was just that, the time between challenges was always so lame, just like on Season 1; the much-needed reprieve from close-death was often replaced by him becoming annoyed with Harold's general geekiness or Owen's funky digestive system.
Yesterday's giant robotic monster had kept him excited for a while, but now the adrenalin rush had faded in after doing nothing but laying in bed and eating sucky food. And Duncan needed the rush. His parole officer knew only too well.
So here he was, on the Outer Space set, looking around idly, when he felt his stomach rumble. He groaned, looking down. He had skipped dinner that night; one look of the strange green goop in his bowl had dispelled his appetite. But only now was he feeling the consequences of his actions. A slow smile spread across his face as a small idea popped into his head. With renewed vigor, he headed back to the trailers.
Footsteps. Darkness. Ragged breaths.
She ran like her life depended on it, which she knew it did. There was no sight; all was black; and no sound; for all was silent. She was aware of everything and nothing all at the same time, she knew that she could not stop, and she had no idea as to for how long, how far or how fast she ran.
And just as she ran, she was suddenly falling, tumbling into the nothingness, shadowy hands wrapping around her, sending tendrils of cold into her spine. She felt one hand, cold and clammy, pressed against her mouth, and her eyes widened; she knew that this was the end, this would be her last moment, the hand on her mouth would suffocate her slowly and painfully –
Gwen sat up suddenly, covered in sweat, her eyes wide and alert, only to be forced back into the mattress, her head hitting the pillow, a hand still clapped over her mouth. She turned her charcoal eyes to the attacker; the silhouette was unfocused, yet vaguely familiar –
"Shh!" hissed a voice, "You'll wake up the others!"
Her expression of horror turned to one of immense irritation, and she caught hold of the offending hand, yanking it away from her mouth.
"Duncan!" she spat, "What the hell? How did you get in here?"
He straightened up, shrugging, and she could see that he was fully clothes, and was carrying something long in his hand.
"The door was unlocked."
"You mean you pried open the window with that crowbar?" she asked dryly, and he grinned, "Damn right, sunshine."
"Okay," she said, massaging her temples, "What are you doing here?"
"I'm about to commit some serious B&E, and I need a partner in crime," he said. She paused, raising an eyebrow at him.
"What?"
He sighed, "I'm hungry, and Chef has a tub of ice-cream in his fridge."
She raised a dubious eyebrow, "Chocolate?"
He smirked, "Would I call you if it wasn't?"
A slow grin spread across her face, and she tossed the sheets aside, all her irritation at him melting away, "Wait outside. I'll be there in five."
"Cam," hissed Mike, nudging his sister. She sat up, looking around blearily. The two of them were sharing a small tent a little distance from the cabins; it was all Chris would provide until they were willing to 'prove themselves'.
"What? What'd I do?"
"Duncan and Gwen are sneaking out," he murmured, "We should follow them."
"Oh, screw Chris and his stupid internship," she groaned, "Let the kids have their privacy."
"Hello?" he demanded, "College? Business experience?"
"How does working with stupid Chris McLean count as business experience?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. He shrugged.
"If we want to go to film school, this will really help our chances, and you know it. Come on, Cam."
She sighed dramatically, sitting up, "Alright, let's go."
The two of the contestants ran through the array of sets, stumbling over misplaced props, bumping into each other and laughing the whole way, a tub of chocolate ice-cream under Duncan's arm and two spoons in Gwen's fist. They reached a set of a small bridge over a river - one of those typical romance movie settings - and skidded to a halt, bending over, completely out of breath.
"That…was…..awesome…." wheezed Gwen, clutching her sides, a weak grin on her blue lips.
"Totally," agreed Duncan, sinking to the ground and placing the tub beside him, "I think….my armpit….is frozen….."
She laughed, sitting down next to him and wiping the sweat from her brow. She held out a spoon to him, and he took it gladly, placing the tub between them and pulling off the lid.
"Hel-lo, gorgeous," he cooed, taking a heaped spoon and stuffing into his mouth. His posture immediately relaxed, and he leaned against the bridge, a moan escaping his lips.
Gwen snickered, "Dude, that sounds so wrong."
"No talk," he sighed, taking another mouthful, "Just ice cream."
She raised an eyebrow, filling her own spoon and putting it in her mouth. Her eyes widened, before they drifted shut, and a pleasured whimper left her throat.
"So….good," she murmured, and he cackled.
"Now that sounds wrong," he said, and she grinned, punching him in the shoulder.
"Thanks," she said suddenly, and he looked at her, raising an eyebrow.
"Thanks? For what?"
"For letting me be your partner in crime. This is pretty cool," she shrugged, embarrassed, looking away.
An easy grin spread across his face, "Like I'd ask anyone else."
"Really?" she asked, turning back to him, one eyebrow raised, "None of the guys come to mind?"
"Hmm," he stroked his chin, pretending to think, "Geoff, Harold, DJ, Owen, Trent, Justin. None of 'em are exactly 'partner-in-crime' material, y'know? Besides, I didn't need to rule them out to pick you. You're easily the coolest person on the set."
A grin spread across her face.
"Thanks, man. You aren't so bad yourself."
""Don't hold it back, honey," he teased, "I know you've got a thing for me."
She snorted, "Yeah, right. I happen to have a boyfriend."
"Oh, he's a total beard," said Duncan, grinning, "You're just using him to distract yourself from my irresistible charm."
She burst out laughing, "You are so full of yourself!"
"You know you love it," he flirted, spoon dangling from his lips.
She rolled her eyes, "You wish!"
He chuckled to himself, enjoying the back-and-forth banter, before his teal eyes skimmed over to her once more.
"So, Goth-girl," he said, "Tell me a little something about you."
She raised an eyebrow at him, "What do you want to know, Bad-boy?"
He paused, surprised that she was so ready to talk to him, when he asked, "What's your favorite color?"
She laughed at the vagueness of the question, before saying, "Blue. Well, teal. You know, like my highlights. Yours?"
"Black," he replied easily, smirking, "Like the rest of your hair."
She laughed again, and then said, "Uh….favorite band?"
He shrugged, "Lots of them. Guns 'n' Roses, Iron Maiden, Breaking Benjamin, Pink Floyd, Nirvana….."
She looked at him curiously, before saying, "We listen to practically the same music."
"And we have the same taste in ice cream," he said, waving his spoon around, and he leaned forward with a flirtatious smirk on his face; "We must be soul-mates."
"Yeah," she said, rolling her eyes, "Whatever floats your boat, Mohawk."
"Mohawk?" he asked, grinning, "That's a new one. I think I liked 'Bad-boy' better."
"What do people usually call you?" she asked idly, taking another mouth of ice-cream.
"Jerk; that's the common one. Then there's 'asshole', used by a lot of girls. 'Pervert' is another favourite of the girls. Then there are the usual. Idiot. Freak. Wannabe. Motherf- " he counted the names off his fingers.
"Okay, I get it!" she interrupted, laughing, "Geez, you aren't very popular, are you?"
He shrugged, "Not really. But then again, who cares, right?"
She leaned back ad sighed, looking up to the sky, "I've always wondered what it would be like; being popular. Like Bridgette or Lindsey."
He made a face, "Alright, Bridgette, maybe I get. But Lindsey? Do you want to have a brain the size of a pigeon's?"
"Hey," she retorted playfully, "Pigeons are way smarter than that!"
They looked into each other's eyes, before bursting out laughing.
Duncan turned to her and grinned lazily, "You don't need to be popular to be awesome."
She paused, touched by the sudden compliment, when he added, "This was fun, Goth-girl. We should do it again sometime."
"Totally, Mohawk," she agreed, smirking, "You know where I live. Break in anytime you want a chat."
"I will," he nodded, standing up, and then taking her hand, deftly pulling her to her feet. They both glanced at the empty tub of ice-cream , then at each other.
"Chef will notice that's missing," mused Duncan. Gwen shrugged.
"We could just fill it with mud off the forest set and put it back in the fridge."
Duncan bent down, picking up the empty tub, and draped his free arm around Gwen's shoulders. He shot her an easy wink, "A girl after my own heart."
She rolled her eyes and began to walk to the kitchen beside him, "Whatever, Cassanova."
Camilla looked down at the camera in her hand, a smug smile on her face.
"Well, whaddaya know," she said, "We did get something good, after all."
She nudged her brother, and stood up from her hiding spot, "Come on, Mikey, let's give this to Mister I'm-So-Full-Of-Myself."
Michael sat there on the ground, frowning to himself.
"What about Courtney?" he asked finally.
Cam snorted, "What, that psychotic, power-hungry, backstabbing chick that Duncan, for some totally retarded reason, is attracted to?"
Michael nodded, "Yeah, her. The pretty brunette. If we give this footage to Chris, he'll air it, and she'll be pissed as hell."
Camilla shrugged, "So what? Mike, it's a reality show. Crap like this happens."
"Can we just…" he began hesitantly, "See how this relationship of theirs turns out?"
She sighed, "Oh, fine. I'm way too tired to argue. Let's just get back to the tent. I want to sleep."
Her brother stopped, frowning, "Wait, what about that ice-cream? Doesn't Chris need to know?"
Camilla cackled, "What he doesn't know won't hurt him. But maybe if we're lucky, this time, it will."
So, what do you guys think? I realize now that there is already a Mike, later in the show, but this is set way before that, and we won't encounter him here. So, what do you think of Camilla and Michael? How do you like the Duncan*Gwen friendship?
The cover art, which is so totally awesome, is done by Fukari. You can see the rest of her Total Drama art on fukari-dot-deviantart-dot-com. Be sure to check it out! She does the best Gwuncan art!
Reviews are love, people! A short one will do :) And it just might encourage me to update faster *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*