#sad boy hours in the chris mclean fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

controversial-ships-anyone · 3 years

Text

don’t swim too far down, lest you get stuck and drown.

(a/n): Just a Chris McLean-centric piece I decided to write, because I have no self control. Also, constructive criticism is always appreciated! I haven’t written for these characters before, so let me know if any of them feel OOC at all.

Word Count: 1,365

Summary: It was only for a moment, but in that moment, he was at a loss.

The boat creaked, rocking gently with the flow of the waves. Chris leaned back in his chair, feet propped up on the railing of the small sailboat, flipping idly through a choose your own adventure novel he had brought along with him.

It was quiet, save for the occasional seagull flying by, and the faint chatter coming from below deck.

He sighed, barely processing the words written out on the page, a restless air surrounding him. He didn't want to go out today, but three phone calls from Blaineley pressuring him to go on a boat ride was enough to force him to leave the solitude of his house. Really, he had been half tempted to bring work with him, but decided against it, knowing full well his weeks and weeks of notes would be tossed in the ocean by her.

“Don’t look so depressed,” Blaineley’s voice sounded from beside him, “You’ll get even more wrinkles.”

Chris tilted his head back to look up at her, eyebrow raised at her sudden remark. One hand rested on her hip, while the other held a cocktail. Instead of her usual red dress, she wore more casual attire; a bright yellow tank top and jean shorts.

“Did you just call me old?” he glared at her, but there was no bite to his words.

She smiled teasingly, taking a sip of her drink, “Hm… did I?”

The TV host scoffed, marking the page of his book before closing it and setting it off to the side, attention focusing out to the very distant city. His thoughts wandered back to his house, back to all the notes littering his bedroom floor in a semi organized manner. He should be working.

“You know, Chris,” Blaineley spoke up, almost absentmindedly, “It’s okay to take a break every once in a while.”

“Says the woman, who does all her work at the very last minute,” Don shot back as he approached the two, a grin on his face. Like Blaineley, he wore casual attire; a short-sleeved, mint green shirt and cargo shorts.

“Hey, not all the time!” Blaineley argued, plopping down in the vacant chair beside Chris.

“Oh, sorry,” Don corrected, leaning back against the railing, grinning cheekily, “Most of the time.”

She huffed, sticking her tongue out as a retaliation.

Chris rolled his eyes at the two, a faint smile on his face, “Anyways,” he cut in, turning his focus to Don, “How was your little show? What was the name of it again?” he feigned ignorance, squinting and staring off into the distance as if he was trying to remember it, “Started with an R… or was it an I…?”

Don crossed his arms, glaring at his friend, “The Ridonculous Race,” he began, “Went absolutely outstanding.”

“Oh my god,” Blaineley sighed, “Can we talk about that final? What the hell even was that?”

Don and Chris exchanged a quick glance before turning their focus to the blond.

“Are you really that upset Geoff and Brody didn’t win?” Don asked, eyebrow raised.

“It wasn’t even about Geoff and his surfer buddy,” she explained, sitting back in her chair and rubbing her temple to fend off an oncoming headache, “It was those damn ice dancers!”

“Oh, don’t even get me started on those two!” Don groaned in annoyance, “They were the absolute worst!”

Blaineley swirled the liquid in her glass absentmindedly, “They were even worse than Heather and Alejandro combined!”

“I don’t know about that, dude,” Chris replied, a smug grin on his face, “Those two were pretty brutal during the competition,” he couldn’t help but laugh at the memories, “Man, watching those two tear up the other contestants was amazing.”

His face fell into a tight frown at the reminder of his show. He should be working, his thoughts bitterly reminded him. He should be back at his house working on ideas, scheduling meetings with the producers, reviewing the various tapes that contestants submitted. He shouldn’t be wasting time on a boat with the two people he hated the least in the world.

“Christopher,” Blaineley snapped, giving him a somewhat gentle nudge in the leg to gain his attention, “You could at least pretend you enjoy our company, you know,” her tone was light, almost playful.

Chris grimaced at the use of his full name, “It’s hard to enjoy anything when I have work I need to do,” he replied bitterly.

Blaineley squinted at him, a confused look crossing her face, “Since when have you ever cared about work this much?”

“Since—” Chris felt his throat tighten at the reminder, and for a second, just one short second that filled the dead air around them, he felt a very familiar hint of fear take hold.

“Chris…?” Don’s voice was so full of concern, it made Chris wonder why they were friends.

Carefully, the TV host stood from his seat, “Look,” he sighed, starting to pace around the boat in an attempt to keep his emotions in check, “I don’t expect either of you to get it,” he couldn’t help sounding resentful, even just for a moment, “But my—my career is on the line, here,” he combed a hand through his hair, unable to mask the exhausted tilt to his voice, “I started paying more attention to the views my show was getting and they—” he made various gestures with his hands as he spoke, as if to emphasize his point, “God, they were dropping. Like, comparing Total Drama Island with Pahkitew Island, it was—it was insane just how big of a difference there was!”

Blaineley and Don watched him carefully, waiting for Chris to finish his rant, silently wondering what they could say that might ease his worries, even just a little bit. Then again, perhaps they shouldn’t say anything at all and let the host wallow in his fears.

“I finally get picked up for two more seasons after seven years,” he turned to look at Blaineley and Don, eyes desperate for something he couldn’t quite name, “I can’t mess this up again. I need to get the views back, or else my life, everything I’ve worked so hard to build, is going to be gone,” his voice suddenly grew a little distant as his gaze fell onto the city, so far away, he couldn't even touch it, “I’ll be… gone…”

There was a long silence as the words hung in the air, deafening. Finally, after a moment, Blaineley was the first one to speak.

“God, you’re stupid,” she sighed, finishing off the rest of her drink.

Chris finally slowed his pacing, glaring at her in annoyance. Don found himself laughing at the sudden statement.

“Chris, even if you lose all your views and the show does end up being cancelled,” she stood from her chair, walking over to her friend and draping an arm over his shoulder, “You’re still Chris McLean, the Host with the Most, the guy everyone wants and wants to be,” she grinned, “So…” she flicked him in the nose, earning a sharp wince, “Stop worrying, would ya?”

He absentmindedly rubbed his sore nose, staring at Blaineley in some surprise. Chris hadn’t expected her to try and comfort him or to even bother listening to his mild tangent, and yet…

There was a distinct weight being added on his shoulder. He turned, meeting Don’s wide grin.

“She’s right, ya know,” he added, giving a light shrug, “And besides, it’s not like we don’t have sources for you to use whenever your show does get canceled.”

Chris scoffed, a faint smile on his face, “Not sure how I feel about that confidence.”

“I bet it gets trashed before season seven,” Blaineley chimed in, a smirk playing on her face.

“Oh, wow,” Chris crossed his arms, shaking his head in fake hurt, “Here I thought you were supposed to be my friends!”

And in that moment, the three began to laugh and a calm understanding settled over them. Chris still had work to do, he still had challenges to work on and video tapes to review, but it could wait. He still had tomorrow, after all.

For now, he would enjoy himself and take a much needed break.

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