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Kevin thinks Connor McKinley is the best district leader he could have asked for.
Most important of all; he doesn’t treat Kevin any differently after that fiasco that was Orlando and Hell Dreams and going-to-be-something-incredible and Joseph Smith, American Moses. Kevin has found himself humbled beyond all measure, but Connor didn’t send him away, doesn’t shame him or force him to make up for it, just treats him as one of the gang. Part of the family. Kevin will forever be grateful for that, will forever feel the need to make up for his stupidity.
Connor’s also kind, but not a softie; rather he makes sure everyone gets out of bed on time, makes sure they all do their chores, provides a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on to whoever is in need of it. He’d offered this to Kevin many times over, but Kevin never felt like he had done enough to earn his sympathy.
(Connor is also sort of the prettiest boy Kevin’s ever seen, which is not something he’s thought about another boy, ever, and which made aforementioned Hell Dream all new levels of confusing.)
Not that he’s perfect or anything. Kevin quickly found out that his district leader is a very private person. Has a fixed schedule for showering where he does NOT want anyone in the vicinity of the passageway between the bathroom and his bedroom (Kevin once accidentally wandered too close and got physically yanked away by Poptarts). And once a month, like clockwork, he gets all snippy and agitated, snaps at people over the smallest things (chewing food too loudly, leaving dirty clothes on their bedroom floors), puts on tear-jerker movies to get weepy over and starts hoarding all the sweets and fattier foods. Kevin suspects he has some kind of chronic illness that he doesn’t want them to know about. Arnold joked that he’s actually a werewolf when Kevin proposed his theory. Kevin is almost inclined to believe him, even though it was obviously meant as a joke (he did a meaningful eyebrow wiggle and everything). Almost.
(Almost, because he did share that specific theory with some of the other elders, only to have them look at him like he was a complete moron and laugh in his face, so proooobably not a werewolf.)
But otherwise Connor is very nice. Smiles at him, and praises him for a job well-done, and makes him feel at home. Makes him feel warm and bubbly inside.
All in all, his time in Uganda is going by much more smoothly with the help of Connor McKinley. He knows his place in their group, thinks he knows all that Connor is willing to share.
Which of course means he is completely unprepared when it happens.
-
o
-
It’s a rainy day, and most of the elders are out in town. Arnold at first had dragged Kevin along with him to visit Nabulungi, but when it became clear the two of them just wanted to spend all afternoon making heart eyes at each other Kevin excused himself and went back to the mission hut. He loves those two, but he’s not quite ready to third wheel on their dates.
Kevin quickly moves inside and shakes his head like a dog on the doorstep. He thinks about what to do with his day, the many empty hours stretching ahead of him. That’s when he hears sounds; some softly cursing from further into the hut. Which is definitely a surprise, both because Kevin had thought he’d be all alone in here, and because most of them still don’t really curse. In fact, Kevin’s probably the biggest potty mouth of them all.
“Helloooo?” he calls, following the disgruntled sounds and quickly realizing they’re coming from the bathroom. He gives a quick knock on the door, and hears a startled gasp in response.
“Kevin?” It’s Connor, and he sounds weirdly strained. “I thought you were out!”
“Arnold basically sexiled me,” Kevin explains, scuffing his shoe against the door.
“Sexiled-”
“I mean, not like that, but they started getting all lovey-dovey. So I came back.”
“I see.”
Connor doesn’t say anything else, but Kevin’s pretty sure he can hear him emit a noise that sounds suspiciously like a groan. Kevin puts his ear to the door, strains to listen.
“Are you, um, are you okay in there?”
“I’m fine,” Connor grounds out, like he’s biting down on the words as they leave his mouth.
“...You sure?” Because even Kevin wouldn’t believe an obvious lie like that.
A pause, then a sigh. “No, actually. I’m not.”
“Obviously,” Kevin mumbles to himself. Then, in a louder voice, “anything I can do to help?”
Connor stays quiet much longer after that. It makes him wonder if the other even heard his question. He’s about to knock and ask again, when he hears a small voice dragging through the door.
“Actually, you can. I need you to go to the store for me.”
Kevin almost presses the full side of his face to the door to be able to make out his voice. “Okay? What do you need?”
“I’m out of pads,” Connor starts explaining, and suddenly he’s an unstoppable train speeding down a track. “I thought I had more time, but they came early this month, and I was too busy thinking about everyone else to notice, so I’m basically stuck in this godforsaken bathroom unless I want to ruin a towel.”
Kevin tries to process this information. Fails to process this information. Frowns dumbly at nothing, feeling like he missed an obvious clue somewhere. Tries to put 1 and 1 together, but somehow ends up at 11 instead of 2.
“You need… pads.”
“Yeah, if you could buy some that’d be great.” Connor sounds incredibly relieved.
“Pads, as in…” Kevin feels like he’s grasping at straws, like he’s about to ask the most moronic question in the history of question-asking. But also, how can he mean those kind? “...as in, for like, menstrual pads?”
“You know any others?” Connor asks, and maybe he means it like a joke but it comes out a little too mean, a little too breathing-heavy and pained.
Come on Kevin, basic math. Look at the information presented to you, and put it together. What picture does it form?
Kevin closes his eyes, is already mentally preparing himself for the shame he knows is about to wash over him like a tidal wave. Pushes on, because he has to make sure, has to know they’re not communicating on entirely different planes.
“But, like- so you mean, you, like-”
“Kevin, use your words.”
Kevin’s cheeks are already too warm. He’s glad there’s a door separating them, that Connor can’t see him struggling.
“So you get periods?” Kevin asks, and immediately steels himself for the reaction.
Connor doesn’t say anything for one, two, three-
“What on earth do you mean ‘so you get periods’?!” His voice booms so loudly it almost pushes Kevin off the door and onto his back. “I’m trans, doofus! Why are you- is, is this new information for you?”
“I mean yeah,” Kevin whimpers, wants to go outside and jump into the lake and not come back up. “How was I supposed to know?”
“I literally told you on your first day here!”
Kevin’s mind immediately skips back to that day, past his own cringeworthy behavior and the mean thoughts he’d had about Arnold, everyone introducing themselves and Kevin not even bothering to remember the names because only his own name and fame counted.
Connor had introduced himself, had told him to keep his feelings locked at bay, and, and…
Kevin swallows. “I um, I might not have. Been paying attention.”
“Oh, for the love of-”
Connor interrupts himself around another groan. Kevin can almost picture him on the other side of that door; stuck on the toilet, hunched over and clutching his abdomen. The pain doesn’t stop him from snipping.
“Of course the only person who can help me is also the only one who doesn’t know I’m trans.”
Kevin wants to die even harder. “Everyone knows?” he whispers. That’s why they all laughed at his theories. Did they know he was unaware or did they think he was just playing games?
“Yes, Kevin,” Connor says in a scathing voice Kevin knows he very much deserves. “It’s the first thing I told everyone after they arrived, so there’s no unhappy surprises like literally this one.”
“I-I mean, it’s not unhappy,” Kevin stresses, sees the one little ray of light and clings to it with all his might, “I’m cool, I don’t care, totally fine I definitely met trans people before and know what periods look like.”
“Really.” For some reason, Connor sounds like he doesn’t believe him for even one second.
“Really,” Kevin lies, “I’ll prove it to you- I’ll go buy those pads right now! You just, um, stay put.”
“Not like I was planning on going anywhere,” Connor replies sarcastically. He still sounds entirely disbelieving, so Kevin kicks his stupid ass into third gear and makes it to the store in record time.
-
o
-
Kevin has no idea what he has to buy. There’s so many types. He’s almost glad they’re not back home in America, that this isn’t a megastore that would probably offer millions of types. Instead there’s only a handful, but still, how is Kevin supposed to know which one he needs? His mom never let him in on any knowledge about menstruation, always told him that that was “a woman’s private affair” and that he needed to stay well clear of it.
A woman’s private affair his ass. That definitely doesn’t help him now, in this situation, when the person he’s trying to buy pads for is neither a woman or wants to make it their “private affair.”
There goes Kevin’s theory that Connor is a private person. Apparently he isn’t that at all, and Kevin is just a terrible listener and an idiot.
There’s thin pads and maxi pads and secure nightwear pads and tampons-
And that’s when Kevin realizes, actually realizes, that Connor menstruates. Which means he has a womb, and he probably also has-
Oh no.
No no no no no.
Okay, Kevin Price, do not, not for one second, for the love of all that is holy, start thinking about Connor’s special area.
NO. Just NO, okay?
Kevin doesn’t want to stand there in the middle of the store with a face that resembles an overcooked lobster. And he definitely definitely doesn’t want to stand there with pants that fit a little too tight, because he let his mind wander to forbidden zones. He’d never be able to look Connor in the eye ever again if he did that. No, he’ll persevere.
In the end, Kevin just grabs one of everything and hopes Connor doesn’t yell at him again.
-
o
-
“Connor?” he asks, knocking on the door. “It’s, um, it’s me.”
“Yeah, I figured,” Connor grumbles. “You got the pads?”
Kevin’s arms are filled to the brim. He’s sort of struggling to balance them all while keeping one hand to the door. “Yep, you want me to leave them on the floor?”
“...I really can’t leave this toilet. I kinda… got a heavy flow.”
“...Okay.” Kevin has no idea what those words mean. Well, he knows what they mean separately, but not when used in conjunction. “I could… open the door and slide them towards you real fast? I promise I won’t look?”
Connor lets out a long-suffering groan, sounding like every last bit of air gets squeezed from his lungs.
“It’s… it’s fine. You can just come in. As long as you promise to be normal about this.”
Kevin nods, realizes Connor can’t see him. “Y-yeah, promise.”
“Door’s unlocked. Do not make me regret this.”
Kevin’s heart is beating in his throat as he grabs the doorknob and turns. Stepping through the door, his gaze almost reflexively finds Connor, even though he told himself he wasn’t going to look. Kevin drops his eyes to the floor and feels another blush coming on. But he wasn’t fast enough not to catch some details; how Connor is sort of pale, like he’s ready to pass out. And how he’s wearing some sort of black top and his pants are down at his ankles, and he’s wearing literally nothing else.
Kevin holds out the pads, talks to the floor. “Sorry- I mean, here, I mean-”
“Can you bring those over?” Connor says in a tone that’s so incredibly over-the-top patient it circles back around to exasperated.
Kevin shuffles closer without daring to look up, holding out the pads like they’re some kind of peace offering.
Connor lets out a whistle. “Did you buy out the entire store?”
“I wanted to make sure I got the right one,” Kevin sheepishly admits, making the mistake of looking up again. It’s a mistake, because Connor had been looking at the collection of pads and just that moment looked up too, causing them to lock eyes.
It’s a very weird experience to lock eyes with someone when you’re feeling hyperaware of every single micro-movement your body makes, and the other person is currently half-naked and sitting on a toilet. And they’re sort of looking at you like you’re both the most interesting and infuriating person they’ve ever seen. And their eyes are so blue and beautiful, and suddenly all the times you’ve mentally called them pretty come racing through your mind.
Kevin averts his gaze, waits for Connor to grab one of the packages. “Sorry,” he mumbles, quickly putting the other stuff down but within reach.
“You don’t have to apo-”
But Kevin’s already fled the bathroom and shut the door behind him.
-
o
-
Kevin’s fiddling with his phone on the couch in the living area when Connor re-emerges. He’s fully clothed this time, has a blanket draped over his shoulders, and is wearing a sort of resting expression Kevin would expect at a funeral.
Connor wordlessly makes himself some tea, and for one long moment Kevin thinks they aren’t going to talk about it, but then Connor walks over and sits down across from him. Kevin puts down his phone to show he’s paying attention.
“So,” Connor says, and Kevin swallows.
“So,” he parrots.
Connor gives him a long look, drums his fingers on his knee. “You must have questions,” he says, but he’s using a careful tone, like Kevin’s an animal he’s trying not to scare away.
Kevin sits up straighter, folds his hands in his lap. Rushes to explain. “I mean, yeah, but you don’t owe me an explanation. I’m the one who didn’t pay attention, that’s all on me, I-”
Connor holds up a hand to cut him off, and Kevin almost bites his tongue in his haste to stop talking. Connor studies his face for a long and pregnant pause. Whatever he’s looking for, he seems to find it, because suddenly he’s allowing a small smile to slip onto his lips.
“So you don’t have any issue with it?” he asks, one eyebrow raised like he’s trying to tease, but Kevin notices his hands are gripping his tea mug a little tighter.
Kevin quickly shakes his head, slightly leans forward. “God, no! Not at all. I mean, you’re still you, this doesn’t change anything. You’re still the best district leader I could’ve asked for.”
Ah. That was maybe a little too truthful.
Kevin blushes as Connor’s smile grows more pleased.
“Am I now?”
“I mean, you’re also the only district leader I ever had,” Kevin quickly counters, to which Connor chucks a pen at him.
Kevin picks up the pen to fiddle with. “Can I… ask you some things?”
“About being trans?”
“Yeah.”
Connor playfully puckers his lips, and wow. They’re really sitting here talking about Connor’s identity like they’re discussing the weather. It’s both a bit surreal and exhilarating.
“Fine. But I have the right not to answer.”
“Fair,” Kevin agrees. Then he tries his very hardest not to stare at Connor’s chest.
“So, um.” He has no idea how to broach the subject without it being the most awkward and invasive question ever. “You, um.”
Connor quirks an eyebrow, and Kevin sort of has the idea that he can already see it coming.
“You wear a top,” Kevin squeezes out, twirling the pen around faster.
“It’s called a binder,” Connor explains, and he seems outwardly calm but he also does start blushing. Okay, okay, so Kevin isn’t the only one who thinks this is the most awkward conversation ever. Good.
“A binder. So it… binds.”
“I have breasts, if that is your question.” He’s blunt on purpose, pull off the bandaid in one go, and Kevin’s grateful for that, but still…
How else is he supposed to react when Connor starts talking about his breasts?!
“Oh, right,” Kevin squeaks, and Connor laughs more genuinely when he’s squirming in embarrassment on the couch. It makes him want to retaliate.
“Have you had this conversation with everyone else?”
Connor shakes his head, eyes widening in flustered realization before he’s looking down into his mug. “Um, no. This one’s just for you.”
“...Oh.” Kevin feels like a broken record.
So now they’re both sitting there in their respective seats, blushing like a pair of idiots.
Connor takes in a deep breath, and starts rattling off the explanations to questions unasked. Like he’d rather just get it over with.
“I don’t take any hormones but I think I’d like to start when we get back home, yes I have breasts but I don’t want to so I wear a binder to press them down so they’re less noticeable, I get my period every month just like every other person with a working womb, and I seriously have no idea how you never noticed any of that before.”
“You hid it well,” Kevin admits, “didn’t have a clue.”
“Really?” Connor looks a little more smug. “That’s good, then.”
“It is?”
“Yeah, dummy. It means that I can pass as a guy. At least to oblivious people like you.”
“I mean,” Kevin adds, “you are a guy to me. I’ve never seen you as anything else.”
This time it’s Connor’s turn to let out an awkward “oh” and not know what to say to that. Kevin can relate; he’s been through that enough times himself during this conversation alone.
“Can I ask you about the periods?” Kevin tries, not wanting them to stop talking now that they’ve started. Wanting to stay in this moment a little bit longer, awkward as it is, just him and Connor talking. Nobody to intrude.
“Ask me when I’m not in the process of bleeding out.”
“Oh- sure, right… Right.”
Kevin squirms some more.
“Thanks for telling me,” Kevin mumbles, “I know I’m a bit of an idiot, but I hope you didn’t think I, that I would judge you or anything…”
“...Thank you. That actually means more than you can imagine.”
“Also,” Kevin blurts, because he never learned to keep his damn mouth shut, “I think you’re really handsome, as a man, so, like, you definitely, um… Yeah…”
“Oh.” Connor takes a moment to process this, a moment to turn the exact shade of a strawberry. Then shyly smiles at him, and it’s a little too much like staring into the sun.
Kevin looks down at his lap. Feels like the atmosphere has shifted during their chat; has gone from awkward to teasing to… to something else.
He carefully lifts his gaze to find Connor already staring back at him. Connor looks away the moment he catches Kevin’s eye.
Kevin does not tell Connor all the other thoughts he’s had about him before.
But somehow, he feels like Connor already has some suspicions.
-
o
-
Once he knows what to look for, it’s hard to ignore the signs.
The monthly bouts of snippishness. Why Poptarts always changes in the bathroom, and keeps a respectful distance of their shared bedroom for everything but sleeping. Connor’s shower rules. How no one ever touches Connor on the chest, how his voice gets higher pitched when he’s giggling at one of Kevin’s lame jokes.
It’s all so obvious, now, but only because he knows to look for it.
Still, Kevin is scatterbrained enough that he does indeed find himself in the hallway when Connor exits the bathroom clad in only a towel. Tied into a knot at the chest, where there is definitely a noticeable curve.
Kevin immediately slaps his hands in front of his eyes and lets out a stream of “I’msorryIdidn’tseeanythingIswearI’mnotlooking-” that is ultimately cut off by Connor giggling at his reaction.
“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean anything by it,” Connor assures him, and Kevin nods his head but keeps his eyes covered.
That is, until he hears Connor’s follow-up.
“...But maybe, if it’s just you, I don’t mind you looking.”
Kevin blinks his eyes behind the reddish glow of his palms.
Did Connor just… Is Kevin right in his deduction that he…
Kevin peeks between his fingers, heart doing its best impression of a jazz ensemble.
Connor is looking back at him, an air about him that is both shy and mischievous, and Kevin knows then that Connor knows fully well what he just said and the implication it holds.
Connor smiles a secretive smile, lashes fluttering, and Kevin’s stomach does a somersault in direct response. He wants to hide his face again, but he’s also completely helpless to do anything but stare right back. He licks his lips, and Connor’s gaze immediately dips to follow the movement.
“You mean it?” Kevin asks, and he didn’t mean for his voice to go so low, didn’t mean to sound so outright wanton.
Connor hears it too, because his freckled cheeks get a little darker. “Well,” he says, half-turning, one hand clutching the towel right over his chest, both obscuring and drawing attention to it, “that’s not a conversation we should have out here in the hallway.”
Kevin blinks. Doesn’t breathe. “Y-yeah, kinda, um,”
“Chilly,” Connor finishes for him, and Kevin nods almost eagerly.
He’s finally relinquished the hold on his face, letting his arms dangle by his sides as he stares at Connor unabashedly (but not without the familiar gnawing of shame, the eternal keep-your-eyes-and-thoughts-to-yourself, which he tries to stomp down into the ground).
Connor fully turns, “We should continue this in my room, I need to get dressed.”
And all Kevin can do when Connor starts walking is jerk after him, a puppet on a string, insides turned to jello.
-
o
-
Kevin has never felt more like a blushing virgin with a crush before in his life.
Because, you know, he is a blushing virgin with a crush.
Connor has put on a fuzzy bathrobe (Kevin demonstratively stared at a wall during the process), and is currently standing so close Kevin swears he can feel the warmth radiating off of his body.
Despite the earlier bravado, Connor looks about as shy as Kevin feels. Which is extremely, but the shyness is coupled with an overwhelming desire to reach out and touch, to pop that bubble of tension that’s been hanging around them ever since they sat down to have that talk a couple of days ago.
Connor dips his head to look somewhere near Kevin’s collarbone, and he reaches out a tentative hand to touch three fingers to Kevin’s chest. Kevin can’t hide the full-body shudder he gives in response.
Connor looks up, eyes bright and clear as a cloudless sky, and Kevin gravitates towards him like a flower seeking the sun. Connor sighs warmly into his mouth right before they fall together, leaving Kevin trembling with delight.
Kevin kisses Connor and Connor kisses Kevin, and Kevin thinks there’s no place he’d rather be. Then Connor pulls back and kisses him on the cheek instead, steps a little closer so their bodies are pressed flush together. Kevin keeps as still as a board, even when his heart wants to beat right out of his chest.
“You think I’m handsome, don’t you?” Connor mumbles against his jaw, and Kevin swallows almost painfully. “You think I’m a pretty boy?”
“The prettiest boy in town,” he lowly confesses, and is rewarded for his honesty when Connor moves back up to reconnect their mouths.
Because sometimes you get rewarded for being an oblivious fool who runs his mouth.