Archive of Our Own

Two days after the Arnold Incident, as they like to refer to the whole debacle, Connor decides to give it up and admit to himself that he might be a little bit in love with the concept of boys.

It really doesn’t take a lot, and it’s partly because he never really learned how to turn it off properly in the first place, but mostly it’s because he wants to. It’s been a long time coming, he consoles himself, late at night when he still can’t sleep properly. And, besides. If everyone is doing it, why shouldn’t Connor? If Arnold is allowed to lie, and Kevin is allowed to not even believe anymore, what’s to stop Connor from admitting that he maybe wants to kiss a boy or two?

He thought maybe he’d sleep easier, afterwards. But he still lays still, every night, staring into the dark with wide eyes and troubled thoughts. No matter how hard he tries, sleep doesn’t come to him. He listens to Elder Church snoring and feels like he’s vibrating with envy.

If anything, turning it back on has made things worse. He can’t stop imagining, over and over again, what it’s like. To do all of the things he’s never allowed himself to - what does a boy feel like to hold? What would it have felt like, at prom, to dance with one? To kiss, to touch - he imagines a dozen different scenarios, and is disappointed that he doesn’t find pleasure in any of them. Instead he feels empty, and something that feels a lot like longing. It doesn’t make him feel any better, because he’s known the truth all along - he was mostly lying to others, and less so himself. The only difference now is that he’s allowing himself to fantasise about things that he couldn’t have, that he still can’t have. In some ways it was easier, before; to pretend that there was nothing that he wanted, that he was content.

He gets out of bed at six thirty, as per regulations, and looks at himself in the mirror. His eyes are black holes, his mouth is hard and lined, and he looks exhausted. He looks even worse than usual. He splashes his face with water and practices his best smile.

Kevin is in the kitchen already, sat on the countertop, because of course he is. He has a bad habit of catching Connor off guard.

“Coffee?” he offers, holding his cup out. Connor wrinkles his nose.

“Is it actually nice?”

“Not really,” says Kevin. “But it does its job. You look like you need it.”

Connor gives him a rueful smile, and takes the cup. He’ll do anything to make him feel even halfway normal again. It’s not so bad, but it has an aftertaste that makes him pull a face. Kevin laughs at him.

“Thanks,” Connor says, and smiles back. “How come you’re awake?”

“You know what they say about old habits,” says Kevin, who sighs. “And anyway, Arnold snores like nothing you’ve ever heard before.”

“So does Church,” says Connor. “I hate it. I don’t understand how people can fall asleep so easily.”

Kevin watches Connor’s face, and Connor doesn’t know what he’s looking for but he hopes Kevin finds it.

“It’ll get easier,” he says.

Connor thinks about it. He hopes Kevin is right. His mother always used to say that time heals all wounds, but she also said he was going through a phase, so. Pinch of salt.

“I’m not so sure,” he says.

“It will,” says Kevin, with the airs and graces of somebody who usually goes through life unquestioned. “We’re not the first people to lose our faith, you know.”

“I know that,” Connor snaps, because he’s tired and grumpy. Kevin holds his hands up.

“Just trying to help,” says Kevin. “It sucks, that you still can’t sleep.”

“You’re telling me,” says Connor, running a hand through his hair.

“I thought maybe, after - you know.”

“Me too,” says Connor, bitterly, until he remembers where he is and who he’s having this conversation with. He puts on his best smile. It falters when Kevin looks at him with that sad face, the corners of his mouth curled into a frown. It doesn’t suit him. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Sorry,” says Kevin. “I can’t help it. You look so sad.”

This is the first time Connor’s had a conversation with Elder Price that he hasn’t stammered his way through because he was distracted by the way Kevin’s face looks in a certain light in a certain way, or because he was too busy watching the way his mouth forms words instead of listening to them. He wishes he could have this confidence around him when he’s not being pitiable.

“It’s too early for this,” says Connor, because he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He never wants to talk about it. “I’m too tired.”

“Okay,” says Kevin, easily conceding. It makes Connor wonder what Elder Price doesn’t want to talk about. He must have secrets - everybody does. “More coffee?”

Connor nods, dumbly, and watches Kevin prepare the drinks. He watches Kevin a lot. He’s waiting for the day Kevin notices it, but fortunately Kevin is unaware of his surroundings in a way that Connor has never encountered before. He lives in a little bubble, and that bubble involves Arnold and Nabulungi and Kevin’s ego and not a lot else. One day that bubble is going to burst, and Connor knows he’s going to be picking up the pieces. It’s just what he does. He was made District Leader for a reason, after all.

***

When Connor turned everything back on (even though he mostly only managed to dim the lights) he didn’t quite expect that he would be confronted with the issue so soon.

It’s unfair, that he has to go on a painful journey of self discovery when Elder Price is right there, looking the way he does, strutting with a confidence that Connor is painfully enviable of. It’s cruel, to make Connor come out all over again with another boy he can’t have. He has big, brown eyes that haunt Connor in his dreams.

At least it’s only a physical attraction, he comforts himself. It’s not like Steve. He’s not quite ready for another Steve. Kevin is beautiful but he’s not all there, and they haven’t really spent enough time together for Connor to develop feelings beyond fantasies of kissing Kevin. He wonders what it would feel like if their tongues touched, but he doesn’t think about Kevin taking him on a date or holding his hand or anything. That would be ridiculous.

They go for a walk and their arms burn where they touch. When Kevin laughs, watching Arnold fall over himself in front of Nabulungi, he knocks his elbow into Connor’s by accident and Connor’s heart does a traitorous little somersault. Kevin shares a quick grin and a shrug and Connor stares back at him, open mouthed, and doesn’t think about what Kevin would look like if he was the one to make him laugh like that.

***

Connor watches Kevin chew his lip thoughtfully. Connor is splayed over the couch, hiding inside from the sun, while Kevin sits at the table, surrounded by pages of notes. He’s been biting his pen and he has ink all around his mouth, but Connor isn’t going to tell him, mostly because it’s funny to watch Elder Price embarrass himself but partly because it’s - well, it’s kind of cute.

“What are you doing?” Connor asks, because he’s bored. Being bored is a new feeling. Usually he has so much to do - learning scripture, attending church, proselytising for twelve hours of the day - but he’s suddenly found himself with ample time and very little to entertain himself with. So he bothers Kevin. Kevin is the most interesting person he’s met in a long time.

“Trying to find ways to get rehydration mixtures to the kids,” says Kevin. “Naba said that sometimes charities will send them over and they’re really useful.”

Kevin is surprisingly altruistic, Connor was delighted to discover. He’s a whole mess of contradictions, because how can one person be so selfish and so giving at the same time? But Kevin manages - manages a lot of things, actually, like being the most self-hating egotist in the world. Like he said, Elder Price is interesting. Connor wants to study him, wants to memorise the patterns of his speech and the way he gets a little frown between his eyebrows when he’s concentrating, and he chalks it up to being bored. He knows it’s not because of that - nobody can be in that much denial, not even Elder McKinley - but if anybody catches him staring, he has a whole heap of excuses lined up.

“You’re a good person,” Connor finds himself telling Kevin, without really thinking about it. Kevin stops chewing his pen and looks up at him.

“Thank you,” he says, quietly. Kevin is a lot of things, but quiet isn’t usually one of them. He’s the kind of person who likes to make an impact.

“Anytime,” says Connor, waving his hand.

“That’s not really the kind of thing I’m used to hearing,” Kevin says, labouring the point. Connor resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“You’re great with the kids,” says Connor’s mouth. “And you got those vitamin supplements for them the other month. That was a nice thing to do.”

“Well,” says Kevin, shifting in his seat. “Somebody has to do this stuff.”

“And it has to be you?”

Kevin says, “It makes me feel important.”

“You are important,” says Connor. He’s not really sure why he’s telling Kevin this. Connor feels almost paralysed when he’s talking to him, sometimes. Like he can’t look away, like he can’t stop the words that come tumbling out of his mouth. It’s embarrassing. He wonders if Kevin knows the effects he has on Connor. Probably not, Connor thinks. He’s not the most self-aware person in the world, that’s for sure. Self-assured, but without any insight. “You don’t have to go all humanitarian on us for that.”

“Well, that is why we’re here,” says Kevin. “Besides, Arnold is busy with the Book and with Naba and his lectures, so I don’t really have anything else to do.”

“You can hang out with me, you know,” says Connor, trying to keep his voice even. He looks up at the ceiling instead of at Kevin. “I don’t really have a lot to do, either. District leader doesn’t really mean much anymore.”

“Yeah?” Kevin asks. Connor can’t decipher anything from the even tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” says Connor. “If you want.”

“That’d be nice,” says Kevin. “It’ll be nice to have another friend.”

“We’re already friends, idiot,” says Connor, and finally looks at him. Kevin looks a bit pink and Connor can feel his skin heating up to match.

“Good to know,” says Kevin, and then his face splits into this shit-eating grin that makes Connor smirk back with a newfound confidence he didn’t know he had in him when it comes to Kevin. Mostly he feels nervous and insecure.

“Since we’re friends,” says Connor. “I should probably tell you that you have ink all over your face.”

“What!” says Kevin, looking thoroughly scandalised. He rubs at his mouth and spreads the ink further down his chin. Connor can’t help it - he laughs at him, even though he knows Kevin doesn’t take to being laughed at very well.

“Don’t worry about it,” says Connor. “It’s cute.”

Kevin stares at him with his mouth open, and then runs over to the sink. Connor’s eyes follow him the whole time, taking advantage of the fact that Kevin is distracted by watching his arms and his hands and Connor feels a swoopy feeling in his stomach.

Oh, no, he thinks. What is he getting himself into?

***
Connor is gardening with Kevin under the blazing sun.

“Your nose is burned,” says Kevin. He reaches out like he’s going to touch him, but his hand falters before it falls. “You look ridiculous.”

Connor touches it self-consciously.

“It’s okay,” says Kevin. “You’re adorable.”

Connor ignores it. He has to ignore it, or he’s going to do something stupid.

“Shut up,” is what he manages to say, squinting at Kevin in the sunlight and shading his eyes with his hand so he can get a proper look at Kevin laughing at him.

“Make me,” says Kevin, and Connor’s heart skips three or four beats. Kevin looks at him with an unreadable expression that Connor analyses over and over again in his head for days.

***

Connor fans himself with an old newspaper, and pretends not to notice Kevin looking at him. He watches Arnold, and he’s always been a good active listener, so he blocks Kevin out entirely to pay attention to Arnold’s lecture.

Kevin has been looking at him a lot, lately. It’s very distracting. Connor often finds himself checking his face and his hair more often than not, but he never finds a reason that Elder Price might be looking at him like that. He doesn’t like feeling scrutinised. He’s been on the receiving end of that weirdly suspicious expression more often than not, and he doesn’t like it one bit. Especially not from the guy who made Connor walk into a tree when he smiled a certain way at him and his face looked all angelic and the sun was making his hair look extra shiny and just - ugh. The whole situation is mortifying and frustrating and Elder Price is absolutely not helping things.

“Did I do something wrong?” Connor asks Kevin that night as they lay together on opposite ends of the couch. He can’t take it anymore. He’s as much of a people pleaser as Kevin is, maybe even more, and he holds Kevin in such a frighteningly high regard (and oh, he’s not stupid, he knows why) that it sets his teeth on edge that maybe Kevin has a problem with him.

“What makes you ask?” says Kevin, with a quick grin, and Connor frowns at him. Little shit.

“Don’t give me that,” says Connor, putting on his best District Leader voice. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“No idea,” says Kevin, loftily. “I think you’re being a little paranoid.”

Connor pinches the bridge of his nose and counts to five.

“You’ve been staring at me, and I can’t figure out why. I thought asking you directly would be the grown up thing to do, but apparently you’re still a child.”

“Rude,” says Kevin. “And that’s a little presumptuous, don’t you think? Assuming I’m staring at you.”

“That’s because you are,” says Connor. “I can recognise somebody dancing around the issue, you know. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”

Kevin gives him a funny look.

“Elder McKinley, showing insight into his own psyche? Uganda has been good for you.”

“You used to be so easy to figure out, you know.”

“And now?”

“Not so much,” says Connor. “You’ve shown a great deal of character development. It’s infuriating.”

“Losing your faith will do that to you, you know,” says Kevin. “Besides, look at you. You’re all grown up now. Are you still mad at yourself about your little - problem?”

“I see you do prefer the direct approach after all,” says Connor, who sighs and looks upwards to the Heavens. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Fair enough,” says Kevin. “I don’t care, just so you know. Whether you are or aren’t.”

“Thats - that’s appreciated, thank you.”

“No problem,” says Kevin. “Since we’re being honest, maybe I have been staring at you. You’re a very interesting person.”

Connor turns pink.

“Um,” he says. “I think that’s a compliment?”

“It is,” says Kevin, and he smiles at him, this small genuine smile that Connor has never seen before. He memorises the way it looks and categorises it in his head to think about later, probably over and over. Stupid Elder Price and his stupid face and his stupid, uncanny ability to make Connor positively swoon over the idiot.

“I’m not,” says Connor. “I’m not mad at myself anymore.”

“That’s good,” says Kevin.

This is the first time Connor’s actually talked about it, with anyone. He’s glad it’s with Kevin, who for all his downfalls, is surprisingly logical. Kevin’s school of teaching is this idea that you’re already who you’re supposed to be. Connor is incredibly grateful for Elder Price, in this moment, because there is nobody in the world it would be easier to tell. Not even Arnold; the new centre of the universe has a lot on his plate, never mind Connor’s journey of self discovery. It seems irrelevant when you consider Elder Cunningham and all his newfound responsibilities and all those people to care for, but with Kevin - he makes Connor feel like the most important person in the world, sometimes.

“Thank you,” says Connor, even though he’s not entirely sure what he’s thankful for.

Kevin smiles at him, a little curl of hair flopping down onto his forehead, and Connor can’t help it, he looks back at him with what must be an open expression, filled with all the things Connor wishes he could say to him. Maybe he’ll say them, one day. But not today. The alliance between them is uneasy at best, and Connor enjoys where they are; the flashes of dark looks across the room, the subtle touches on the small of his back that could mean anything. He knows it’s probably all useless fantasies, but it makes him feel wanted all the same.

It’s so easy, to pretend that there might be something between them. It helps. Connor is still a little rusty at this, and if there’s anything he knows, it’s that practice makes perfect. And if he gets to use Elder Price as a springboard for his journey of self-discovery, well, it’s a bonus that Connor gets to use somebody so downright attractive.

“I’m glad we’re friends,” says Kevin.

“Me too,” says Connor, instead of we could be more than that, if you wanted. He doesn’t say it, because he knows that Kevin already knows.

***

Another night laid awake.

The absolute darkness of the hut at night is a comfort. He sees a flicker of light under his doorway pause, before moving off down the hall. Kevin, his brain helpfully supplies, along with images of him walking around in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt, hovering by the door, his face framed by candlelight. It’s not entirely the best thing to think about if he wants to get any sleep tonight, but it’s much nicer than his usual haunts.

Connor considers, carefully, slipping out of bed and into Kevin’s presence. But he doesn’t. Safer to stay here, in his imagined world of him and Kevin and Kevin and him, where there are easy touches and late-night kisses on the couch and no consequences. Kevin said it’d get easier, but he’s the one making it so damn hard.

***

Because they have no electricity or movies or even books to read, they’re all forced to find other ways to entertain themselves when they’re not working. And they have a lot of time when they’re not working, these days. They have a lot of parties - usually organised, thrown and run by Nabulungi - and some of them, like Neeley and Davis, love playing sports with the Ugandans (who beat them every single time). Sometimes they teach each other silly word games, or go exploring, always an odd mismatch of pairings that everybody starts to bleed together and there are no particular loyalties or secrets between them. Apart from Kevin and Arnold, of course, who would probably jump off a bridge together if the other one thought it would be funny. And sometimes, just sometimes, Connor thinks that maybe he and Kevin are getting there as well.

Connor’s favourite, though, is Sunday night story time. It’s way, way better than Sunday morning church. They take it in turns, but it is, naturally, Arnold who usually delivers. Mostly he recites movies verbatim, but Connor has never seen any of them, so he doesn’t mind. But it’s not really the stories he likes - it’s the big puppy pile of all them laid on the floor, when they’ve all dragged their pillows and sheets into the living area and squeezed onto the tiny floor while Arnold wobbles, standing on a chair or dramatically acting out scenes from atop the table. It makes them feel like a proper little family, and it’s nice, because Connor is pretty certain he’s never going to see his biological one again.

When Michaels gets up to go to the bathroom during Arnold’s intermission (and by intermission, he means lie down and catch his breath because he worked himself up by pretending to be three spaceships in a battle at once), Kevin casually slides over to where Connor is sitting. Their legs inevitably press together. His other leg is pressed against Church, but it doesn’t burn through his clothes the same way, or make Connor’s thoughts incoherent.

They don’t say anything, but Kevin’s fingers do drift, ever so briefly, onto this thigh later that night when the story is dwindling down. Connor presses the same spot over and over again when he should be sleeping, trying to remember what it felt like to have another boy touch him.

***

Connor puts his card down, slowly.

“Snap,” they both say at the same time. Their hands touch, and it should just be for a second but it’s not. Their eyes meet over the cards haphazardly strewn across the floor.

Connor wins, in the end, but he knows it’s only because Kevin let him.

***

They’re in too deep for Connor to pretend not to notice anymore. Kevin suddenly grins at him, one day, his eyes tinged with an expression that has been reserved just for Connor for a while now, and Connor finally admits to himself that he understands with a disturbing clarity exactly what Elder Price has been trying to do. Kevin is a lot of things, but subtle isn’t one of them.

Connor wonders if he ignores it, will it go away? Probably not, if he knows Kevin as well he thinks he does by now. Kevin’s dedication to commitment is startling and a little enviable. His resolve is resolute: he is unwavering in his convictions, and as far as Connor is aware, it took somebody being murdered in front of him for his faith to even falter. Kevin tries, to the best of his ability, to get what he wants. And he’s starting to get the feeling that Kevin wants Connor’s attention, whatever reasons he has for it. Connor is painfully aware that Kevin already has it.

But at the end of the day, Connor was never going to ignore it in the first place. If Kevin Price has a crush on Connor, that’s definitely something worth pursuing. Connor is whole-heartedly behind the idea. He hasn’t been as excited about anything since he realised he didn’t actually have to be a Mormon if he didn’t want to be. But he keeps a straight - for lack of a better word - face, and only steals glimpses back. They lock eyes over the dinner table and Connor can’t help the smirk that curls his lips, and doesn’t miss the way Kevin’s face mirrors his.

Well. Two can play at that game, Elder Price.

***

“What is going on with you two?” asks Church as soon as they turn in for the night. Connor has the decency to not pretend that he doesn’t know what Church is talking about.

“Nothing,” says Connor. “Not yet.”

“Okay,” says Church. He doesn’t say anything else, and Connor is grateful. He doesn’t have the words to describe whatever-they-are. He couldn’t talk about it even if he wanted to. Besides, Connor gave away all of his secrets, and it’s nice to have another one to fill the gap his sort-of-coming-out left in his chest.

“Do you think he likes me?” Connor says out loud, long after he knows Church has fallen asleep.

***

Connor has a game plan.

He’s getting bored of going back and forth with Kevin, trying to figure out if he’s looking at him or the person behind him, he’s tired of Kevin smiling at every single person he meets and only giving Connor a curt nod, and then the next day be hanging off of him like a monkey. Kevin has always been all over the place, but this is getting ridiculous. It’s not like Connor doesn’t know what he’s doing.

So he stands a little too close to Thomas, puts his hand on the small of his back, and gives him his most subtle smile. Thomas gives him a look and moves away pretty quickly, like a frightened rabbit, but when he looks over at Kevin he knows the damage has already been done. His mission accomplished. He’s been working on it all day, and he knows he’s crossed some boundaries with Thomas that he’s going to have to apologise for and find some excuse or other later tonight, but the look on Kevin’s face makes it worth it.

He smiles serenely at him, and touches his hand to Kevin’s knee ever-so-briefly when he brushes past him.

He wonders what Kevin is going to say, if he’s going to say anything at all. He’s excited to find out what Kevin’s next move is. He’s enjoying the game they’re playing far too much.

Kevin corners him outside later that night as Connor is filling up the bucket with water from the pump, presses one hand to his bicep, and the other is soon on his hip, and Connor thinks, oh, okay. This is certainly a new development. Kevin looks a little unhinged, and his eyes are wide and bright, like they usually are, but his mouth is turned down in a small frown and his jaw twitches. Connor doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know what to say, but mostly because he’s pathetic and he likes how it feels, Kevin’s body pressed up against his and the hard grip Kevin’s holding him with.

“Don’t do that again,” Kevin says.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Connor, as airily as he can, but it comes out a little strangled.

Kevin leans forward, so close, and Connor wants to close his eyes but he can’t look away from his mouth. He swallows, and he can see Kevin’s eyes flicker down to watch the way his throat moves.

“You’re a bad liar,” says Kevin, and then pushes himself away from Connor with one last squeeze on his hip. He walks back into the hut like nothing just happened, like that wasn’t the hottest thing that’s ever happened to Connor, like that didn’t mean anything. Jesus fucking Christ, he thinks.

Well. That went better than Connor had expected. There’s no doubt in Connor’s mind, now. He’s a toy that Kevin doesn’t want anyone else to play with, and that’s just fine with Connor. He feels happy and light and wants to throw his arms around a friend and tell them that his crush just got jealous over him, that he hasn’t been making it up, that it’s not all been an elaborate fantasy in his head. But then he deflates; he doesn’t have any friends he can do that with. Not everybody is quite as okay with it as he is (and when, how, did that happen?), or Kevin is, or even Arnold. But Arnold isn’t really his friend, and besides he would tell Kevin everything anyway, and then Kevin will have won the game that they’ve been playing for months now. And Connor, for once, is the one that’s winning. He gave himself the upper hand. Jealous, he thinks, keeping another secret tucked close to his chest. Still, he may have won the battle, but he already knows he’s lost the war.

***

Connor can’t sleep. This is not a new or surprising occurrence. He tosses and turns in his bed for hours, before he gives up and goes to the living area. Sometimes he sleeps better on the couch.

He moves as quietly as he can, hesitating whilst closing the door so he doesn’t wake Church, who is a lighter sleeper than Connor would like out of his mission companion. He’s been on the receiving end of his tired eyes more than once after a particularly rough night, and he doesn’t have it in him to deal with another person being disappointed in him.

He hears some suspicious noises coming from Price and Cunningham’s room, and a decidedly high-pitched and feminine squeal, and he prepares himself for a Kevin already perched on the couch. This is also not a new or surprising occurrence.

“Hi, Kevin,” he whispers in the darkness.

“Connor?” Kevin replies.

“You probably shouldn’t let Nabulungi kick you out of your own room, you know.”

Kevin lights the candle and he looks - well, the dim yellow light definitely softens his features and he looks so inviting on the couch, like he’s warm and solid and safe, and Connor is tired. He’s so tired, he’s always tired, and he’s a little embarrassed at how desperate he is to lay his head on Kevin’s chest and close his eyes and let himself drift away. It’s easier to sleep when he doesn’t feel alone. He resists the urge to climb into Church’s bed all the time, and he never gives in, because Connor understands there are boundaries and Connor’s - disposition makes it difficult for him to build close, tactile relationships without making people feel uncomfortable.

“We have a tie on the doorknob agreement that I pinky swore I would stick to,” says Kevin. “He promised he would return the favour.”

Connor is thrown, for a moment, and ignores the feeling stirring in his gut that makes him feel nauseous and irrationally irritable. It takes a moment, and Kevin’s imploring big eyes, for him to realise that Kevin might be talking about Connor.

“That’s very gracious of you both,” says Connor, who moves over to sit on the couch with Kevin. “Although there are about fifteen rules you’ve broken, not to mention -” he doesn’t finish that sentence, because talking about sex with Kevin when he looks like that with his sleepy eyes and his rumbled pyjama shirt and his hair sticking up ridiculously might just end in a broken heart. Or, the slim possibility of something else entirely, and Connor isn’t quite sure the couch in the middle of the night when he’s feeling exhausted and vulnerable is the most appropriate place for Connor to stick his hand down Kevin’s pants.

“Not to mention?” says Kevin, who can never let anything go.

“You know what I mean,” says Connor, who waves his hand as if willing the words to fade away in the air. “Don’t make me say it, I’m far too tired for you to play games with me right now.”

Kevin rests his head on Connor’s shoulder. They sit in a companionable, if a little awkward, silence for a while, until Connor starts to feel his eyelids droop.

“Are you okay?” Kevin asks. Connor lifts his heavy head and looks down at Kevin.

“Not really,” he says. “Are you?”

Kevin rubs his cheek against Connor’s shoulder like a cat. Connor ignores the warm feeling that blooms in his chest when he looks at him.

“Better now you’re hanging out with me,” says Kevin, and it says it in such an uncharacteristically honest and open way that Connor believes he means it genuinely, and not just to watch Connor get flustered. The middle of the night does weird things to people.

“Yeah,” says Connor, returning the honest gesture. “Me too.”

Kevin makes a soft noise that surprises Connor. Kevin yawns and shuffles a little closer, so now they’re actually cuddling, oh God, and then Connor thinks - this? This is why he had to endure years of therapy, this is why he can’t sleep at night, this is what he’s been punished for? A boy laid close to him, hand laid over his heart, feeling the ins and outs of his chest pressed against his side? It just feels so simple, and normal, in a way that Connor didn’t expect. He doesn’t know what he expected. The fiery pits of Hell opening up beneath them both because Connor dared to be held close by a boy? Connor tries not to cry, suddenly overwhelmed, and suddenly more awake.

“It’s okay,” says Kevin, who sticks his nose in his neck. “This is okay. Trust me.”

And the thing is, against his better judgement, he does trust Kevin. He’s trusting Kevin to hold his heart in his hands and not break it. He trusts that Kevin is right, that Kevin is always right, that what they’ve done and what they’re doing is the right thing to do. Screw the mission president, screw rules, and screw the Church and their parents and even God.

“Okay,” says Connor, and gingerly places his hand around Kevin’s back.

“Cool,” says Kevin, who breathes heavily on the tender skin under his chin.

Connor finds himself dozing off, at some point, dreaming of arms and hands and warmth. When he wakes up, long after the sun has risen, Kevin is nowhere to be seen. Connor doesn’t take it personally. Connor doesn’t really want to talk about it, either.

***

Kevin lays with Connor, one afternoon, pretending they don’t have chores to do or places to be. The backs of their hands are pressed together on the grass and for one, particularly dangerous second, Kevin’s fingers play with the palm of Connor’s hand.

“One might get the wrong idea, you know,” says Connor. Kevin grins and raises his eyebrows.

“I know,” he says.

“Since when did you stop caring what other people think of you?”

Kevin shrugs as best he can when laying down.

“I care what some people think about me,” says Kevin. “I’ve just learned the difference between people who aren’t worth it, and those who are.”

“You’re a man of mystery,” says Connor, turning his cheek on the ground to look at him. “Arnold, I take it?”

Kevin snorts.

“Arnold thinks I’m the best thing since sliced bread, and he’d cut your fingers off if you told him otherwise.”

“He’s a little frightening,” says Connor, smiling.

“He just loves too much.”

“He puts his faith in the right people,” says Connor.

“And we put our faith in him,” says Kevin. “It’s still hard, you know. To let it go.”

“I know,” says Connor. “Trust me, I know.”

Kevin turns to look back at Connor. They’ve developed a horrible habit of way too much eye contact, and Connor finds himself incapable of speaking when he’s being studied by those big eyes. He wonders, idly, if Kevin’s silence means the same thing.

“I care what you think about me,” says Kevin, eventually. He looks small and his hair and his mouth look soft and Connor wants to reach out and trace the line of his lips with his fingertips. “Just so you know.”

Connor can’t help the smile that breaks out on his face, and he’s horrified at himself for making it so obvious, for showing Kevin just how quickly he can turn Connor into jelly. Still, Kevin smiles back, and Connor has wanted to kiss Kevin a thousand times but never more than he does in this moment. He doesn’t, though. There’s a time and a place.

“I think you’re pretty neat,” says Connor, and hates the words as he’s saying them. What he wants to say it, I think you’re perfect. I fantasise about what you look like under your clothes, I want to kiss every inch of you, I think I might be halfway in love with you and you already know that and you’re still here and that must mean something, right? “And you’re easy on the eyes.”

“I know,” says Kevin, and Connor knows him well enough now to know it’s all airs and graces. His voice wavered a little when he said it. Connor tries not to think too deeply about that, because that’s a rabbit hole he will spiral into and he’s not quite ready to lose himself in Kevin just yet. Soon, maybe. But not now. For now, he’s happy to drift through their mission with whispered touches to his arm, grasping for Kevin’s attention and taking it eagerly when it’s offered.

He knows he’s lying to himself. He would tumble into Kevin’s arms and kiss him until he forgot his own name (which, for Kevin, would be no mean feat), if only Kevin would open them slightly wider and he could slip right into them and press Kevin into his bed and slowly unbutton his shirt and he would -

Maybe it would be best if Connor turned it off. He doesn’t, though. He doesn’t even try.

***

Kevin is sat at Connor’s desk, feet up on the table, sticking his tongue out in that way he does. Connor unashamedly watches Kevin lick his lips, safe in the knowledge that Kevin can’t actually see what’s running through Connor’s head.

“We need nets,” says Kevin. “Insecticide soaked nets. Do we have enough money left?”

“Probably,” says Connor, who had his life savings sent over to spend for two years on people who need it more than him. He’s not the only one who’s done this. It’s amazing how far dollars can stretch in Uganda.

“Cool,” says Kevin. “Well. I think that’s the next most important thing to get.”

“That sounds good,” says Connor. “We’ll add it to the list of things to ask about in Kampala.”

Kevin looks up and smiles. Connor feels a little bit gooey. It’s a little disgusting, how much Kevin’s attention means to him. Stupid Kevin with his stupid perfect teeth and perfect hair and perfect everything. His personality is somewhat lacking, Connor will concede to that, but he’s trying, bless him.

“We should ask about the seeds, too,” says Kevin.

“And we need more candles,” says Connor. “I’m tired of bumbling about in the dark. My hips are covered in bruises from the stupid table.”

Kevin gives him a surprisingly dark look. Connor doesn’t miss the way his fingers twitch.

“Whose turn is it to go?”

Kevin has a look on his face that Connor knows all too well by now. He’s determined. Connor already knows that whatever Kevin wants, Connor will give him.

“I’m not sure,” Connor lies. It’s supposed to be Neeley and Davis.

“We should go,” says Kevin. “It should just be the two of us.”

He says it with such finality. Connor wants to scold him a little, take him down a peg or two because just who is the district leader, here? But he doesn’t, because Connor likes the idea. He likes the idea a lot.

“Okay,” Connor agrees. He doesn’t even have to think about it. It’s a little bit selfish, because it means that they get to enjoy electricity and market food and an actual, honest to God supermarket, but he’s finding it hard to care when he’s imagining Kevin’s thumbs pushing down on the bruises on his hips as he kisses him in the hotel bedroom. Kevin is thinking about it too, it would seem, from the way he’s looking at Connor across the table. Connor grins at him. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Awesome,” says Kevin, who grins back at him. They smile stupidly at each other for a moment before Connor remembers where he is and who he’s with and looks away.

***

Connor runs into a shirtless Kevin Price in the middle of the night and almost has a heart attack.

“Oh,” says Connor.

“Hi,” says Kevin, holding his shirt in front of his chest as if that’ll cover him. He’s broad, and well-defined, and Connor has to physically stop himself from drooling. “I, um. Spilled coffee on my shirt.”

“Okay,” says Connor, then moves his mouth open and closed like a fish.

“I didn’t know anybody was up.”

“Sorry,” says Connor, but he definitely doesn’t mean it. He’s not sorry about this turn of events at all.

“I’ll, uh, just go put another shirt on and -”

“You don’t have to,” says Connor. He regrets it immediately.

Kevin’s expression is unreadable.

“Do you like what you see?” he says. Connor considers smothering him with a pillow in his sleep for asking such a ridiculous, obvious question.

He’s not sure if he wants to lie or not. In the end, he doesn’t say anything at all, just brushes past Kevin and walks into the living area, but he presses his fingers on Kevin’s stomach as he maneuvers around him.

They don’t talk about it, but the next day Kevin reaches up above Connor to pull the curtains closed, and he moves Connor out of the way, gently, his fingers stretched out on Connor’s waist as a reminder.

***

They’re sat by the fire. It can get horribly cold at night, and that’s Connor’s excuse for sitting a little too close to Elder Price. Kevin knocks their shoulders together in a familiar gesture that makes Connor relax, a little. The only person who’s giving them a funny look is Arnold, who Connor can only assume knows more than Kevin is letting Connor believe. Connor doesn’t really mind. Arnold is Arnold, and Arnold knows everything and nothing at the same time, without judgement or reproach.

Nabulungi kisses Arnold on the mouth, and then kisses him again, and Connor is overwhelmed with so much envy he feels like his insides are turning green. He feels Kevin’s arm brushing against his, and he wants so badly, to thread their fingers together and kiss him in front of the fire, in front of everyone. He doesn’t. He can’t.

“You’re attracted to me,” Kevin says, out of nowhere. Connor glares at him.

“I think you’ll find you’re mistaken,” says Connor. “I think you’re insufferable.”

“No, you don’t,” says Kevin, matter of factly.

“No,” Connor concedes. “Besides. You’re one to talk.”

Kevin shrugs.

“I suppose I am,” says Kevin. He doesn’t say anything else. Connor is glad. If they’re going to have this conversation, he wants it to be in private, for goodness sake. Not to hide it from everyone; no, it’s not a secret that Connor wants Kevin Price in a way that’s more than strictly platonic. There’s no point in hiding it, after all. He wants it to be in private so they can reach the logical conclusion of this conversation away from prying eyes. What he wants to do to Kevin is not fit for company. He assumes, at this point, that the feeling is mutual.

***

“He talks about you a lot, by the way,” says Nabulungi, handing him vegetables from the market to put away.

Connor wonders when people started having conversations with him about Kevin without referring to him by name.

“I know,” says Connor.

Nabulungi sings a tune to herself that he knows she picked up from Kevin.

***

“What’s your favourite animal?” says Kevin.

“A dog,” says Connor. “Why?”

Kevin doesn’t say anything, just reaches over to grab his old, dusty Book of Mormon. Connor doesn’t look at the exposed skin where his shirt has ridden up. Kevin turns to the back page, and rips it out without even flinching.

“Oh,” says Connor, surprised. Kevin doesn’t pay him any attention, just starts flattening it out on the table and folding it at the corners.

“Did you have a dog, at home?”

“No,” says Connor, watching Kevin’s fingers work. “My dad’s allergic. I always wanted one, though.”

“Well,” says Kevin, folding the page in half, and then in half again. “That’s something else you can have now that you couldn’t before.”

Connor smiles at him, genuinely and openly, but Kevin is too busy focusing on folding and unfolding the paper to notice. His tongue is sticking out slightly and his eyes are narrowed. He’s fascinating when he concentrates. It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist, as if the only important thing in the universe is whatever Kevin Price is doing right now.

“Here’s your first dog ever,” says Kevin, handing over a small, folded paper imitation. “Congratulations. Boy or girl?”

“Girl,” says Connor, holding the tiny thing in his palm, afraid to crush it. “She’s pretty.”

“She is?” says Kevin, looking pleased. He runs his hand through his hair and leans back on his chair, two legs off the floor. Connor wants to smooth it back down and tell him to sit up straight, but he doesn’t. He’s never been Kevin’s district leader. Kevin has never needed leading to do anything. He wouldn’t listen anyway. Kevin is on a mission not to bow to authority figures anymore. Connor thinks it’s kind of cute that he doesn’t realise that’s exactly what he does with Arnold.

“Thank you,” says Connor, and places her carefully down on the table. “Show me?”

“Okay,” says Kevin. He rips out another page, and then another, from the book. It doesn’t even go through Connor, like he would have thought. Connor, in all honesty, thinks it’s kind of funny.

“What’s your favourite animal?”

“Oh,” says Kevin. “I don’t know. Monkeys, maybe.”

“You like monkeys because they stole Thomas’ poptart straight out of his hands.”

“Maybe. But they’re funny looking. I like things that are funny looking,” says Kevin. “Like you.”

“You’re mean,” says Connor, faking a pout.

“I said I liked you,” says Kevin. “That’s not mean. That’s nice. I don’t really like anyone very much.”

Connor hums to himself, because he doesn’t know what to say that won’t end with him trying to press Kevin into the table and kiss him senseless.

“Well, I don’t think I can make a monkey,” says Connor, trying to keep the last shreds of self-control in tact. Watching Kevin’s hands so intensely is slowly unraveling the remains of his dignity. “Can you show me how to make a box?”

Kevin nods, and hands the pieces of paper over to him.

“Like this,” he says, and begins to fold it. Connor tries to follow along, but he keeps ripping the paper by accident or folding it the wrong way.

“You’re so bad at this,” says Kevin. Connor scowls at him.

“Sorry, Mr I’m-perfect-at-everything-I-do,” says Connor. “Some of us aren’t gifted with your many, many talents, you know.”

“I’m flattered,” says Kevin, and he does look rather pink around the ears. “You’re good at stuff. Just not origami, apparently.”

He finishes folding a dinosaur and hands it over to Connor.

“It came from space,” he tells him. Connor tries, and fails miserably, not to laugh.

“Where did you learn to do this?”

Kevin rips out another piece of paper.

“I spent a lot of time alone,” he says.

“Must be weird,” says Connor. “Being glued to seven other people like this.”

“It is weird,” says Kevin, folding the paper so many times Connor can barely see it under his fingertips. “But I don’t mind it. It’s kind of nice.”

He presents another folded piece of paper, this time in the shape of a frog.

“Give it to Arnold,” Connor says, as soon as he sees it. “Please. He would die.”

“I’ve already made him a million of these,” says Kevin. “I keep finding them in my shoes.”

“Why your shoes?”

“Because of this,” says Kevin. He puts two fingers on the back of the frog, between the legs, and presses down. It launches into the air and lands on its back. Connor laughs, and tries it for himself. It ends up in Kevin’s lap and he picks it up and places it, carefully, next to the dog and the dinosaur.

Connor doesn’t manage to make much, in the end, and eventually they have to move because the light is too low and Arnold wants to show something to Kevin outside anyway. Connor stays alone, practicing over and over again, ripping the pages out himself. He practices until he learns to make little, wonky hearts, and he sneaks into Kevin’s room and puts them all under his pillow.

***

The light streams through the window, making Elder Price squint at Connor’s shirt. He moves his head to look up at him and -

“Don’t move,” says Connor. “Or I’ll accidentally cut your ear off, and then were will you be?”

“I’ll still have my dashing good looks, don’t worry. One little ear won’t do much harm.”

Connor rolls his eyes. He runs Kevin’s hair through his fingers and examines the length, before cutting it carefully.

“I have a joke,” says Connor. “What would bears be without bees?”

“I don’t know,” says Kevin. “What would bears be without bees?”

“Ears,” says Connor, and then blows tiny particles of hair off of Kevin’s neck. He doesn’t miss the way Kevin shivers a little.

“You’re awful,” says Kevin. “What kind of monster has the best hearing?”

Connor finally lets himself look at Kevin’s face, and the lopsided length of his half-cut hair makes him look ridiculous. Connor finds himself smiling, and Kevin smiles back.

“You look like an idiot,” says Connor. Kevin looks at him expectantly, still with that stupid little smile on his face, and it takes Connor a little too long to take the hint. “I don’t know, what monster has the best hearing, Elder Price?”

“The eeriest,” says Kevin, and Connor snorts.

He continues cutting his hair in silence, for a little while, and Kevin squirms until Connor puts his hands on either side of his head and says in his best district leader voice, “Stop wriggling. It’s earitating.”

Kevin laughs, then, and Connor accidentally cuts a lock of hair he didn’t mean to.

“Oops,” says Connor. Kevin cocks his head at him, inquisitively. He looks less horrified than he would have done even a month ago.

“What did you do?” says Kevin, and he sounds more curious than accusatory.

“I cut it wrong,” says Connor, feeling hot and embarrassed. “Now you have this big clump.”

“That’s okay,” says Kevin.

“It’s not,” says Connor. “I fucked it up.”

Connor can feel himself starting to panic, and he doesn’t know why. It feels like falling over and spilling your drink all over your crush, or, or -

Kevin grabs his arm, and Connor drops the scissors onto the floor.

“I don’t care,” says Kevin, who uses his free arm to ruffle his own hair into an uneven mess. Connor, despite himself, swoons a little at the image of a rumpled Elder Price. It’s a rare sight to behold. And the way Kevin looks at him feels so - intimate, and private, and it’s an expression Connor knows, deep down in his gut, that’s reserved just for him. “It’ll grow back.”

“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into cutting your hair,” says Connor, who just can’t look away from Kevin’s stupid eyes. “It was earesponsible of me.”

Kevin smirks, and Connor’s brain shuts down at the way his wide eyes are focused solely on him, like he’s the only thing in the world.

“I think you’re earristible,” says Kevin.

Connor, for once, takes the hint, and leans down, and Kevin closes his eyes, and they’re really doing this - oh God, they’re really doing this - and Connor can feel himself almost vibrate with anticipation. Kevin pushes his face upwards, and Connor looks at his stupid, asymmetrical hair and his pink cheeks and his open mouth and thinks - well, he doesn’t really think about anything.

He manages to touch their lips, briefly, only for a moment, before he hears a crash and pulls back quickly. Connor stares at Kevin, and Kevin stares back, before he smiles up at him with all of his teeth.

“Arnold,” says Kevin, before he comes bursting through the door.

Way to kill the mood, Prophet Cunningham, thinks Connor. He’s often found himself resentful of Arnold - which is so embarrassing and he refuses to admit to anyone - but he has never, ever felt as displeased with their new-found leader as much as he does right now.

“Your hair,” says Arnold, skidding to a halt in front of him. Then he laughs, loud and obnoxious and painfully carefree, and Connor does not feel jealous of the way Kevin looks at Arnold with obvious adoration. His eyes are practically heart-shaped whenever they’re in the same room.

“Connor cut it,” Kevin beams. “His hand slipped.”

“I’ll bet it did,” says Arnold, and Kevin starts coughing, disrupting the little hairs littering his shoulders.

Connor wonders what Arnold sees when he looks at the two of them, the way Connor is watching the both of them now. Does he know that Kevin is into him? Does he think it’s one sided on Connor’s part? Or does he know exactly what’s going on between them? He’s never sure how much Kevin has told Arnold - to Connor, it’s a dirty little secret, but for Kevin, he probably stays up all night with Arnold having a little sleepover and talking about crushes. Connor doesn’t mind it. He likes the idea that Kevin talks about him in that way.

“I can fix it,” says Connor, picking the scissors up from the floor.

“You can fix anything,” says Arnold, sitting on the table. “Must be why you were made district leader.”

“Yeah,” says Kevin, looking at him with an expression that Connor knows wouldn’t be on his face if Arnold could see it. “You’re pretty neat.”

Connor flushes at the reminder, his own words echoing in his head.

“Thanks,” he says, running Kevin’s hair through his fingers again, trying not to think about Arnold studying the two of them. He’s waiting for the day that Arnold puts a passage into his book about how being gay is okay, but thankfully he hasn’t done it yet. There is only one person in the world he wants to talk about that with, and he just kissed him. He kissed him! He wants to lean down, keeping his fingers in his hair, and open his mouth against Kevin’s, touch their tongues together, Kevin sliding his hands under Connor’s shirt and -

He almost cuts another section of Kevin’s hair too short. He can focus. He can do this. Even though sometimes it feels like Kevin is the centre of the universe, some kind of ethereal, other worldly being oozing with confidence and inhumanly attractive, he’s also just a boy who needs his hair cutting. He’s a boy who took one of Connor’s origami hearts and put it in his cup of coffee, and Connor almost swallowed it and choked because Kevin is a normal, breathing human being who doesn’t know how to flirt properly. He’s extraordinary, that’s for sure, and Connor is never going to be able to take him down from the pedestal he carefully placed him on, but he’s also nothing more than a scared twenty year old who just wants attention, who wants to feel special and important. Connor gets that. He wants the same things Kevin does, and he’ll gladly give them to him, if Kevin returns the favour.

Kevin touches his lips, briefly, and smiles up at Connor with that infuriating small smirk that Connor wants to wipe off his face. Arnold is right there, and Connor doesn’t need Kevin to deliberately make him flustered if he wants both his pride and his hair to remain in tact.

“Do you come ear often?” says Kevin, after a while, the words bursting out of him like he just thought of it and can’t wait to hear the reaction. Connor starts laughing, and can’t stop. He puts both his hands on Kevin’s shoulders, but they start shaking as Kevin laughs, too.

“What’s so funny? Guys? Guys?” says Arnold. Connor ignores him, looking right at Kevin’s beaming smile, and can’t wait to spend the rest of his mission trying to get Kevin to kiss him again.

***

It’s three thirty in the morning.

“Let’s go for a walk,” says Kevin. “Maybe you’ll sleep easier.”

“Okay,” Connor agrees, easily, because he’s so far gone that he’ll do whatever Kevin tells him to.

They don’t manage to get very far, because as soon as they’re outside Kevin presses Connor into the wall of the hut and starts nosing at his neck, just under his ear. Connor laughs, because it tickles, and Kevin has taken him off guard.

“Not here,” he tells him. Kevin pouts. “I’m serious.”

“Okay,” says Kevin, pulling back, resting his forehead against Connor’s. Connor breathes in what Kevin breathes out and he wants to kiss him, he wants to kiss him so badly, but he’s so tired.

“I’m exhausted,” he tells Kevin. “I’m so tired. I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay,” says Kevin, pulling Connor in for a hug. They’ve never actually done this before. Most of the time, their touches are brief, silent, whispered on each other’s skin. This is hard, and comforting, and Connor could get lost in Kevin so easily. He’d lose the map on purpose and wander in the wrong direction so he’d never be able to leave. “You’ll be okay, in the end.”

When they go back inside, Connor falls asleep on the couch holding Kevin’s hand, thinking about how Kevin must be as tired as he is.

***

Connor has known they would be sharing a hotel room for a while now. It’s not like he doesn’t know what’s going to happen. He knows that Kevin knows, too. And Kevin probably knows that Connor knows that he knows. Even Kevin isn’t that stupid.

Still, this means that on the actual day he should be nervous and jittery and trying to turn it off, probably. He isn’t. He has visions of Kevin’s hand steadying a twitching knee on the bus, but he’s fine. He imagines that he’s on the verge of some kind of panic attack and Kevin squeezes the back of his neck, the soothing touch calming his nerves. Connor isn’t panicking at all. Connor is thrilled. Connor is excited. Connor is, more than anything, curious.

So they check in. They carry their bags upstairs. Kevin locks the door behind them.

Connor claims the bed by the window, and sits on the edge of it, his hands propping him up. Kevin undoes his tie and throws it on the other bed. Connor watches him with a vague interest, studying the minute muscles in Kevin’s arm and how they move. Kevin sighs and runs a hand over his face, and Connor appreciates all of it. His hands, the hair he runs them through, the expression he pulls when he notices Connor watching him. Kevin turns away, but Connor doesn’t miss his smirk.

“What are you doing?”

“Unpacking,” says Kevin, without turning to look at him. “Otherwise our shirts will get all crumpled up.”

Connor hums. Kevin is just stalling for time. Connor wonders if maybe Kevin is the one who’s nervous, but he dismisses the idea as soon as it comes to him. He’s Elder Price, and if there’s one thing he knows about Elder Price, it’s that he works to get what he wants. And he’s been working on Connor for a while now.

“I can think of better things you could do with your time,” says Connor. Kevin’s shoulders relax a little, and he huffs out a laugh. “We’re only here one night, after all.”

“You’ve been thinking about them for a while,” is what he says. Connor shrugs even though Kevin can’t see him.

“So have you,” says Connor.

Kevin finishes unpacking with painstaking neatness. When he finally turns to look at him, his eyes are bright and mischievous, the way they usually are when they look at Connor. Connor’s spine tingles.

Kevin moves over to Connor on the bed, and pushes him down onto his back with one hand pressed flat against his chest. He smiles down at him, wickedly, and leans his face close to his. Connor grins back.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” says Connor, after a beat.

“Maybe,” says Kevin. Kevin ghosts his lips over Connor’s. “If you ask nicely.”

Connor huffs indignantly.

“I’m not going to beg,” says Connor.

“Of course you won’t,” says Kevin.

He places his hands on the bed, either side of Connor’s head. He slides his knee in between Connor’s legs. It is, by far, the most intimate thing he’s ever experienced. It’s a little bit wonderful, but mostly frustrating. Kevin is stringing him out because he thinks it’s fun. Kevin, in all of his wonderful childishness, is holding Connor’s toy out of reach and expecting Connor to jump up for it. And the thing is, it is fun. There’s a playfulness between them that Connor didn’t expect, but isn’t complaining about. He touches his forehead to Connor’s and Connor can feel his breath on his face and then Kevin runs his hand up Connor’s side and under his shirt and Connor doesn’t mind it. He doesn’t mind it at all.

“We only have one night,” says Connor.

“Right,” says Kevin. “We should probably make the most of it.”

“Probably,” says Connor. Kevin still doesn’t kiss him. “My God, you’re the worst person in the world.”

“You love me,” says Kevin, and the air is tense and this means something, just for a second, before Connor pulls Kevin’s head down to his and kisses him with a ferocity that only comes to those who wait.

And then nothing matters at all. Not what this might mean, not if they’re going to do it again, not even if Kevin doesn’t feel quite the same way that Connor does. He focuses on the feel of Kevin’s lips, and stubble rubbing on Connor’s chin, and how weird it is to have somebody else’s spit in his mouth. He tries to be present in the moment because this is something he’s wanted his whole life, and it’s with Elder Price, of all people, and Connor never thought in his wildest dreams that he would lose his virginity on his mission. The idea is so ridiculous that it makes him laugh against Kevin’s mouth. Kevin pulls back, affronted, and raises his eyebrows. Connor starts unbuttoning Kevin’s shirt, and oh God it’s hard under there.

“Why are you laughing?” says Kevin, and he looks put out and a little insecure, and it’s look that doesn’t suit him. Connor smoothes the crease in his eyebrow with his thumb and kisses him again. Kevin makes a sound and Connor realises that Kevin is pulling back, withdrawing into himself, and Connor needs to pull him back out because Kevin can’t back out now.

“This is ridiculous,” says Connor. “Did you expect to be doing this on your mission?”

“Not really,” says Kevin. “Does it bother you?”

Connor thinks about it, he really does.

“No,” says Connor. “No. This whole mission has been one sacrilege after another. What’s one more?”

“Exactly,” says Kevin. “We can do whatever we want, tonight. No Church. No book. No Elders. Just us.”

“I want you,” says Connor. “That’s what I want.”

Kevin’s smile is wide and stupid and his eyes are hooded and the way he looks down at him is downright filthy. He opens his mouth against Connor’s. The kiss turns heated pretty quickly and Connor is so excited to find out what his ten year long fantasies will actually feel like. So far, so good.

Connor wonders, vaguely, if they’re going to regret this later. But then Kevin finishes taking off his shirt for him, and Connor’s brain shuts down entirely. This is his fantasy come to life; complete with a Ken-doll like object of sexual desire.

“Connor,” says Kevin, like his name got stuck in his throat a while ago and he’s only just figured out how to get his mouth around it.

“Yeah,” Connor agrees, before sucking on his neck like a leech. Just because he can. Kevin’s fingers curl in his hair and push him down, then down some more, and -

When it’s over, Connor doesn’t regret it. He doesn’t think Kevin does, either, from the way he’s languidly kissing him. Connor is kissing him right back, their tongues spit-slick and wet and filthy.

It was better than what he’s played over and over in his head, increasingly and with a more specific subject the past few months in many ways, and worse in others. Some parts were awkward at best, but it was mostly intense and hot and felt so good. He wants to do it again. He wants to do it in as many positions as he can, he wants to try everything, and he’s already planning their next trip to the market in his head and thinking of excuses that it’s the two of them who absolutely have to be the ones to go. He’s greedy. He’s greedy for more of his fantasies to come to life, but mostly he’s greedy for Kevin and Kevin’s attention and Kevin’s unwavering focus on making Connor come undone beneath him. He’s greedy for the ways Kevin’s arms shook with the pressure of holding himself up while Connor did - things to him that made him whimper. He’s eager and impatient and a little bit selfish so he pushes himself further into Kevin and rakes his hands through his hair, cups the back of his neck, knocks their teeth together painfully with his need for more and now.

“We should do that again sometime,” says Kevin, and Connor huffs into his mouth.

“You think?”

Kevin doesn’t reply, just kisses him again. They’re going to have to talk about this, at some point, even though they work so much better without words. But not now. They have two more hours before they have to check out, and Connor is going to make the most of it. He’s going to wash in an actual shower, especially after - well, you know.

Kevin goes first, because Connor is a pushover when it comes to Elder Price. He gets out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel and Connor actually allows himself to look - and by the way Kevin’s chest and neck are flushed all pink and the way he keeps glancing at Connor out of the corner of his eye, Kevin likes being watched like this. This another thing that Connor gets to keep all to himself, and he’s not above admitting that he enjoys the secrets he gets to keep that are all directly related to Kevin Price.

He goes into the bathroom and showers - God, does it feel good to shower in hot water and not attempt to bathe with lukewarm, tepid, already kind of dirty water - for longer than necessary, so the whole room has steamed up. When he gets out and looks at himself in the mirror, he spots, in the bottom of the left hand corner, a tiny heart traced out in the steam.

***

Life goes on, because of course it does. Only now he gets to kiss Elder Price, and sometimes more than kiss Elder Price. It’s both better and just as good as what he’s obsessively and compulsively imagined for years, safe in his head where nobody could see. Satan doesn’t come to claim him. Hell hasn’t opened up beneath him. The sun still rises, the moon still glows in the dark, the grass still grows. It makes him want to call his mother and call her any number of what-used-to-be forbidden words, but he doesn’t. He takes his revenge by kissing Kevin harder, by touching him more often, by sighing into his mouth and taking every available opportunity to have filthy, mind-blowing sex. More secrets, but he doesn’t try very hard to keep these; he wants to show Kevin off, he wants to tell everybody, he wants to stand on the table and proclaim to the world that he managed to get Elder Price to like him. Connor did always want to kiss the cutest boy at school.

He still can’t sleep, but he sleeps easier. Sometimes they’re still nocturnal, spending hours each night on the couch, playing stupid games or telling each other stories or kissing until dawn. Sometimes he crawls into Kevin’s bed in the middle of the night and he doesn’t necessarily sleep, but he still gets out of bed every morning feeling better than he did before. Arnold doesn’t seem to mind; he can sleep through anything, and besides he starts to spend more and more nights at Nabulungi’s anyway because Kevin’s tie is almost constantly on the doorknob.

Usually they have sex, because they’re twenty-something boys pressed very close to each other not wearing many clothes and sometimes things just happen like that. But Kevin’s hands start wandering one night, and Connor grabs them and moves them back to his face so he can kiss Kevin properly without getting distracted.

“Not tonight,” says Connor. “I just want to - can you just like, hold me?”

He feels embarrassed before the words even come out of his mouth.

“I thought you only liked me for my body,” says Kevin, sounding surprisingly insecure.

“Don’t be an idiot,” says Connor. “Do you really need me to tell you like I like your personality?”

“I think so,” says Kevin. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” says Connor, and kisses Kevin once, on the corner of his mouth.

“Most people don’t really like me,” says Kevin. “You know. As a person.”

“Most people are stupid,” says Connor. “Who cares? I like you.”

“You do?” says Kevin, and he actually sounds surprised.

“Obviously” says Connor, touching their foreheads together.

“You too,” says Kevin. “I like you too.”

“I know,” says Connor, and kisses him until Kevin falls asleep.

Kevin rolls over, taking the pillow with him. Connor is about to roll his eyes behind his back but then he notices it; something that makes Connor’s heart swell so much he feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest and all over Kevin. Still under his pillow, there’s a collection of tiny, misshapen origami hearts.