Chapter Text
The hum of the plane’s engines is steady, lulling most passengers into a fitful sleep. An unlucky few, however, stay awake.
Kevin Price and Arnold Cunningham are part of those unlucky few. Kevin sits rigidly in his seat, tie perfectly straight, clutching his mission handbook like it’s the Word of God itself. Next to him, Arnold bounces slightly with excitement, head tilted toward the window even though there’s nothing to see but darkness, and the occasional cloud.
After a long silence, Arnold speaks—again.
“So… Kevin,” he whispers, leaning in close, “what do you think Uganda smells like? I bet it smells like adventure. Or maybe like missionary sweat. Which, I guess, is kinda the same thing!”
Kevin gives a tight smile. He’s trying to focus, trying to prepare mentally, spiritually—professionally. But it’s hard when Arnold’s shoulder keeps brushing his. And he’s been leaning in a little more with every sentence. And he keeps calling him “Kevin” instead of “Elder Price.” And when he laughs, it’s a little too loud, a little too obnoxious. A little too cute.
Kevin sighs and turns to face him.
“You don’t ever stop talking, do you?”
Arnold freezes, eyes wide. “Do you… want me to stop?”
Kevin hesitates. For a second too long.
“…No. I don’t.”
Arnold’s smile softens. A little quieter. A little more real. Something genuine, instead of a masquerade. Instead of a foolish grin that makes people whisper under their breath about the boy with the glasses. The space between their seats suddenly feels very small, and the rest of the flight stretches ahead of them—ten hours of extremely close proximity, shared Star Wars bingeing, maybe secrets, and something else neither of them can quite name.
Kevin looks back toward the dark window, but he’s not really seeing it. His mind’s racing. He can’t believe how close Arnold is sitting now — their elbows are brushing, and Arnold hasn’t moved away. Maybe he hasn’t noticed. Or maybe he didn’t want to move.
Arnold shifts in his seat again and lowers his voice. “I brought snacks. Like… a lot of snacks. Do you want gummy worms?” He pulls out a crinkly bag from his backpack with a little triumphant smile, like it’s some secret gift from the heavens.
Kevin lets out a short, surprised laugh. “Are those even mission-approved?”
Arnold shrugs. “I dunno. But I figured the Lord’d want us to be happy. And honestly, gummy worms make me really happy.”
He holds the bag out.
Kevin takes one, their fingers brushing.
For a beat, it’s silent again. Warm. Familiar in a weird way. Kevin shifts in his seat, facing Arnold more directly, but still composed. “You’re… different from what I expected.”
Arnold blinks. “Different good, or different like, ‘This kid’s annoying, I’m gonna get transferred to someone else before we even land’?”
Kevin lets out a sigh — half-exasperated, half something else. He rests his head against the seat back and finally relaxes a little. “Different like… I think this mission’s going to be harder than I thought.”
Arnold frowns, glasses sliding down his nose slightly. Kevin has to resist the urge to push them back up his pretty freckled nose.
“Oh… because of me?”
Kevin turns his head slightly, meeting his eyes. There’s the smallest smile tugging at his mouth. “Not because of you. Because I’m not sure how I’m supposed to focus when I’m sitting next to someone who won’t stop being so…”
Arnold leans in. “So… what?”
Kevin doesn’t finish the sentence. He just holds his gaze a little too long. There's tension now — soft but charged. The kind of moment where the hum of the plane fades out, and all Kevin hears is Arnold's breath, closer than before.
“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” Kevin finally says.
Arnold’s eyes flicker with something. Kevin doesn’t know what.
“Good. Because you’re not either.”
Their knees bump. Neither boy moves away.
Kevin Price prides himself on being the “perfect missionary”. The golden boy, who gets straight A’s, studies old Mormon stories over and over, and most definitely never has unholy urges toward a certain chubby, short, nerdy, completely adorable mission companion.
But said mission companion, is currently asleep on his shoulder, snoring softly. And Heavenly Father help him, Arnold is so cute Kevin would almost go to hell to kiss him.
Almost.
But, he asks himself, is it really worth it? Would he really disappoint his family, his teachers, God himself? Everyone who had ever told him that “men love women”?
Arnold stirs on his shoulder, eyes fluttering open. “Buddy? Sorry I fell asleep on you…” The boy returns to his own seat, glasses slightly fogged and lips parted.
Kevin smiles. “It’s okay, Elder.”
”Elder?” Arnold furrows his brow. “I told you to call me Arnold.”
”Well, it’s not exactly…allowed, in the handbook.”
And Arnold makes a pouting face and oh gosh did the plane just get a bit hotter?
“Who cares about a stupid book some guy wrote years ago?”
”You make a good point…Arnold.” Kevin chuckles.
Arnold scooches a bit closer to Kevin on the uncomfortable, hard airplane seats, clinging onto his mission companion’s shirt sleeve. Kevin thinks he must look a complete fool, because his face hurts from grinning and Arnold is really too kissable for his own good, and who would it really hurt if he just leaned in, just a bit closer…
And then Arnold Cunningham and Kevin Price are kissing, on a late-night flight to Uganda. The shorter boy’s lips are, to no surprise, just as soft as they look. He’s gently twisting a lock of Kevin’s hair around his index finger.
Kevin’s neck is angled awkwardly to reach Arnold’s lips, and his leg has just gone numb, and his back is uncomfortably pressed up against the wall of the plane.
He’s never been happier.