District 9 group bonding games

Kevin “millennial” Price

“Oh boy, Japan! Land of soy sauce and Mothra!”

(Bonus Mcpriceley sketch under the cut because I’m cringe)

Some Elder Mckinley & Elder Price fan art. ✨✨✨

Nic Rouleau and Brian Sears last show was everything!!!

I’ve compiled a list of stand out moments:

➡️ Half the audience gave nic a standing ovation for his last I Believe…he was holding back tears…I on the otherhand was sobbing

➡️”What about Nic Rouleau?” (Instead of Nabulungi)

➡️Nic couldn’t get out the opening of Tomorrow is a Latter Day and Brian had to save him

Me working at Book of Mormon what is this character arc

katiekate-hawkeye:

Me: Kevin Price is gay-

Me internally: -for so many reasons. He’s presented from the start as this Perfect Mormon Boy™. We know he studied in depth from the age of nine. He definitely put a lot of pressure on himself to be as perfect as he could be. As we’re all very well aware, the Mormon church is incredibly homophobic, typically the only two options for gay members are out right celibacy or marry a person of a different sex. This is further shown by Kevin saying to Connor that it is okay to have gay thoughts, just as long as you never act on them. This is definitely something he could’ve internalised for himself. While he does say he isn’t having gay thoughts when Connor tells him the actual solution is to crush them, this can be easily explained. Kevin basically wants to be a new prophet. A great new prophet in his eyes wouldn’t have to, as he would see it, ‘struggle with gay thoughts’. To him, the answer would be both to not act on those thoughts and to not acknowledge them at all. Next, there’s also his hell dream which is a manifestation of all his guilt. Connor shows up in it. Why would he show up if he didn’t represent something? While other things he’d expected to see in hell were there, like non-mormons and abhorrent people, you could see Connor as representing homosexuality in of itself. Which was probably what the writers were going for. But I propose he represents his own guilt with his sexuality. In the original Broadway version, when Connor showed up, so did Arnold. Arnold came to represent his guilt of leaving him alone. Connor being there for whether he has feelings for Connor or he just represents his feelings for men in general would make sense in that moment. Kevin being gay makes sense, from his background, never hearing if he’d ever had a girlfriend, to the hell dream. Kevin Price is 100% gay.

Me externally: -because I said so lol

By Your Side

A letter from home is bound to cause tears. But with Kevin by his side, it doesn’t feel like the world is ending; the way he always imagined it would go.

By Your Side - Broadway-Honey (BespokeSuits) - The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez [Archive of Our Own]

By Your Side

BOM 10 DAY CHALLENGE - DAY 1

Line Prompt - “Let it burn.”

——————————————————————

He’s been staring at the envelope in his hand for what feels like a lifetime; in reality, it’s only been a few measly minutes. The edges are worn and the top left corner has begun to curl from all his anxious fidgeting. Postal service in Uganda has really done a number on the small package that accompanied the letter. Sitting alone in his room, Connor stares at the cursive of his name; those perfect loops forever etched into his brain. Collecting a deep breath, he turns the envelope over and finds that there’s no return address to be seen. He scoffs, tearing off the tab and pulling out the letter nestled inside. The envelope drops to the floor as he opens the letter, eyes scanning the words briefly. The words consume him as he reads them over and over again, sucking him deeper into a world of numbness; he doesn’t even hear the knocking on the door that has now turned into obnoxious banging.

Whoever it is at the door barges in, stopping dead in their tracks when they see Connor hunched over and the way the letter shakes in his hands. Soft little sobs fill the silence; the letter slips from his fingers and drifts delicately to the floor. Connor covers his face, completely collapsing in on himself. There are arms encircling him in an instant, his head cradled delicately as he sobs into a strong chest. “Con, talk to me…” A soothing voice whispers, fingers gently stroking his hair. It grounds him, that voice so familiar and warm, those fingers that know exactly how to touch to ease his mind. Connor sniffles, wiping the tears from his face before he looks up and is greeted by the sight of his boyfriend looking down at him with a concerned frown.

“They did it… they actually fucking did it, Kev. They chose the church over me,” he says, barely holding back another sob. “I’m their only child! A-and I wasn’t good enough as is for them to… to want me!” Kevin’s heart breaks as he watches the pain morph on Connor’s face, in his eyes. He holds his partner tight, silently vowing to never let him feel this way ever again. Connor cries, it’s ugly and messy and he feels like he’s at his lowest point.

“I-I know it’s not much, that it may not even help, but…” Kevin leans down as he wipes away fresh tears and presses a gentle kiss to Connor’s forehead, “they do not deserve to have such a wonderful person as their son… you deserve better than their conditional love. I can’t promise that it’ll ever stop hurting, but, I will be there for you every time it gets hard.” It doesn’t feel like enough to offer, but it’s all Kevin has. Connor smiles sadly at him, presses their foreheads together as he strokes Kevin’s cheek.

“They, um…” Connor takes a moment to collect himself, taking a deep and shaky breath as he looks in Kevin’s eyes. “They said they’ve sent me all my important documents, packed up the rest of my things b-but… they had the nerve to send me a family photo and…” he trails off as he turns around, picking up the envelope and shaking out the other contents, “a plane ticket. As if seeing that fucking picture would suddenly make me not gay and the perfect child they want!” Connor picks up the ticket, staring at the letters and numbers with disgust, “I wish I could just burn it… this and everything else from that awful envelope…”

“We could,” Kevin says without a single thought even processing in his mind. Connor’s eyes snap to him immediately and Kevin freezes, swallowing a little. “Th-the villagers are having a campfire type thing t-to spend time with us…” He explains, already seeing the gears in Connor’s head turning. Knowing there’s no point in trying to talk him out of whatever plan he’s cooked up, Kevin just drags Connor back into his arms and holds him.

They go to the village campfire, Connor can feel the weight of the envelope and all it’s contents against his thigh. Kevin squeezes his hand tightly, shooting him a comforting smile. Connor nods, watching as everyone talks in little groups a safe distance from the flames. He walks over to the fire, Kevin following closely behind and watching as Connor methodically tosses each page of the letter into the flames, followed by the envelope.

They stand together, Kevin placing a delicate hand on the small of Connor’s back as they watch the paper become swallowed by the flames. Connor’s hands shake as he looks down at the ticket and photograph; he closes his eyes tight and tosses the ticket, feeling the heat of the flame against his body grow warmer for a moment. Kevin covers his hand gently, coaxing the photo out of his fingers. He presses a quick kiss to Connor’s temple and carefully tears it, handing back the piece without child Connor in it.

“Let it burn, love…” he whispers softly. Without any hesitation, Connor tosses the ruined picture into the fire and watches as his parents’ faces shrivel, turning to ash. At once, a burden feels like it’s been lifted off his shoulders and Connor’s lips tick up into a small smile. He looks back at Kevin, watching him slip the other piece of the photo into his shirt pocket. “Right where you belong… with my heart,” Kevin says with such an earnest smile that Connor can’t even bring himself to laugh at how cheesy it is. He pulls his boyfriend in for a sweet kiss, and let’s himself forget about all the trivial things in his life. Connor just enjoys the moment; he’s finally found the beginnings of his real family.

passionsdie:

hey friends!!

so! i’m writing an au on ao3!

it’s a bom & falsettos crossover thing where kevin & whizzer are siblings and i Know that some people don’t like that, so please don’t come at me if you don’t. i’ve been insulted over it in the past so i feel the need to mention that :’)

anyways! if you ARE a person who likes that au!!

i have a huge list of headcanons for the family i created for this au & i really really want to talk about them with someone bc i’m proud of them and i want to ramble :’)

so like…. if anyone wants to listen to me ramble & possibly help me come up with more headcanons for them, please message me !

*banging pots and pans together* this is the shit I live for. Give it all to me

y’all just ever start a real long conversation about ships and it turns into an rp that lasts like over a week? bc same

starting a sad fic during a university class because I’m sad? it’s more likely than you think

broadway-honey:

Smoke & Mirrors - AO3

Smoke and Mirrors - Chapter 1 - Broadway-Honey (BespokeSuits) - The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez [Archive of Our Own]

The night before the wedding, Connor falls back into old habits. The choices he’s making certainly wouldn’t please his fiancé and yet he doesn’t seem to care about that. It feels too good, too freeing, for him to be encouraged to stop. How long will that feeling last?

Chapter Two: Behind Closed Doors - Now Posted!

They make it back to Kevin’s room. Behind closed doors, what you think is exactly what happens.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21152735/chapters/54366448

The Book of Mormon closed last night here in Australia. I saw the show 16 times in total (including shows from last year). I wanted to share some pictures with y’all of Joel Granger and I. He’s one of the nicest performers I’ve ever met and he really kills it as Elder McKinley.

And as an added bonus:

Blake Bowden (Elder Price) and I!

sad-showtunes:

gatoraaade:

digitalstowaway:

Connor and Kevin stay up one night (before curfew of course) after all the other elders go to sleep and just talk and get to know each other better

Connor admits that his childhood dream was to be a Disney Prince at Disney World and Kevin’s eyes light up and gushes about all his childhood trips to Disney and Connor says he’s never been and Kevin nearly screams at him “I’LL TAKE YOU AFTER OUR MISSION”

And after that is when he realizes he has a bad crush on Elder McKinley

I want to write a fic on this so bad now!

DO IT! I’D READ THE FUCK OUTTA THAT

I want this very badly!!!

cryptidwithoutacause:

reblog if you’re gay, fully believe in mcpriceley, or wish only the best for the people in the musical theater industry

itsamusical-amusical:

No-one:

Literally not a soul:

Me: Can I tell you about Elder Price from Book of Mormon??? I’ve been dying to talk about Kevin Price,,,,,,, let me tell you about Kevin Price

This time two days ago I’d just got out of the Eugene O'Neill Theatre having seen The Book of Mormon on Broadway (with @slightlytookish!) I am now back in the UK, and timezones are mysterious and cruel things and so I have inflicted my jetlag on everyone’s favourite Elder Price. Wikipedia states that jetlag can have “cognitive effects include poorer performance on mental tasks and concentration, increased fatigue, headaches, and irritability” so I thought I’d be mean. (Once I’ve got over my jetlag and had this beta’d I’ll AO3 it.)

Plus Nine
Kevin Price centric. (McKinley/Price pre-relationship if you squint/want) 
Canon compliant.

Sleep came easily to Kevin Price, it always had. His bedtime routine had been set in stone since he’d been a young boy; he would say goodnight to his mom and dad, he and his brothers would brush their teeth huddled around the bathroom sink – Lucas helping Ethan, Jack elbowing Michael, and Sarah using their parents en-suite rather than sharing with the boys -  and then Kevin would say his prayers, lay down in bed and think of Planet Orlando until those thoughts turned into dreams. Almost always of Planet Orlando.

And, apart from the one time that he snuck out of bed, and the consequences and dreams which followed, that had been Kevin’s night-time routine for nineteen years. He got into bed, he slept, he dreamt and then he woke up. He didn’t oversleep or complain about having to get up in the mornings, always getting at least eight hours, if not nine. He’d make his best crisply first thing in the morning after he work up, and plumped his cushions ready for the night ahead.

Sleep had come easily at the Missionary Training Center too. The days had been full of work, rewarding and sometimes repetitive, but not hard, and Kevin had always been ready to learn. He couldn’t be the best if he didn’t know more than everybody else, so he applied himself and at night dreamt of the Epcot Center and having his photograph taken with Mickey Mouse. The framed picture of Kevin, all teeth and sunburn with Mickey’s hand on his shoulder - taken when Kevin was nine and learning the wonders of Orlando for the first time – had the rest of his siblings in too, and Kevin didn’t think that it was too selfish to want a picture that was just for him.

He’d never flown internationally before. Kevin had slept all the way to Orlando, and it had appeared out the plane window like a dream in his childhood, and there was part of Kevin, that part that was still a child and not a man grown and about to go and spread the word. There was a part of Kevin that expected his mission to start in the same way, a fresh slate. Scene change and suddenly, Uganda.

That wasn’t, it turned out, how international travel worked. It had seemed very civilised for their flight time to be at 4:26, they could sleep on the plane and wake up fresh faced and ready to start the most important two years of their lives. It was Wednesday afternoon when they left Salt Lake City, and Friday evening when they arrived in Kitguli. Flight delays, nearly missed connections and two plane transfers not to mention the late bus meant that they had been travelling for nearly 42 hours, and his new companion had been talking almost non-stop. When Elder Cunningham hadn’t been talking, or filming – “Elder, what do you think about the fact that we might miss our next flight?” “Elder Price, look they’ve got Star Trek on the inflight entertainment system, we should totally watch it together!” “Best friend! Can I have your snacks?” – he had been snoring. Loudly. But Kevin couldn’t sleep, they had been forever chasing sunrises but he couldn’t afford not to be present, this was where Heavenly Father said that he should be, and Heavenly Father wasn’t wrong. There had to be a reason for this, and that reason would be found in Uganda.

Kevin is tired down to the very bones of himself, but, this – men with guns rifling through their cases and stealing their belongings, a blasphemous deprived people who have dismissed the presence of the Latter Day Saints in their village for months - somehow is what Heavenly Father wants of him so that he can get everything that he’s always wanted. And so he has to work for it – if it were easy then it wouldn’t be incredible? Right?

It’s overwhelming and loud, and the village is bustling and bright even at this hour, and for a moment Kevin imagines that the Mission Hut is going to be an oasis of calm, they are Mormons after all. The Elders should be settling down to get ready for sleep, the District Leader, McKinley, should meet them, shake their hands and give them a gentle introduction to progress in the village. And then Kevin can sleep. Once he’s slept, then he can start again. He doesn’t know what day it is.

He finds himself dancing. He wonders, briefly, whether this is twisted take on a Hell Dream. Could this be his punishment for contemplating the complimentary coffee on the plane? Or for judging his new companion? Elder Cunningham isn’t really that bad, and Kevin is tired, and confused. But no, he is unfortunately awake and the dancing is really happening. At least his District Leader appears to be pleased by it. It must be hard to be having gay thoughts, Kevin admires him. He also wishes that he would be quiet.

The bedroom issued to Elder Cunningham and himself is cramped, pokey and dark. It blessedly has two uncomfortable looking single beds, he imagines that Elder Cunningham will want the bed nearest the window – and at this moment Kevin could care less, as long as he can sleep. His prayers are silent, conducted as he undresses, surely Heavenly Father can’t begrudge him for that, and he’s almost settled into blissful silence, when Elder Cunningham starts talking. And Kevin is tired, and exhausted, and starting to run out of patience with his companion, but he can’t not acknowledge Elder Cunningham’s uncertainty. Elder Cunningham has tried to bolster his emotions, not that he needs it, but he’s reminded Kevin that he can do something incredible, and Elder Cunningham’s father should be proud of his son, Cunningham isn’t a bad person, just… intense. He hopes that Cunningham calms down in the morning, that a night’s sleep will be good for both of them and that the world will align itself properly tomorrow.

It doesn’t.

Kevin wakes up tired with a faint headache pounding at his temple, and the day doesn’t get better from there. He should be snappier with his answers, he’s practiced and learnt and he knows these stories and the best ways to introduce people into the Church. But he stumbles when Dr Gotswana starts talking about maggots in unsavoury places, taking longer than he should to pull his concentration back.

Cunningham isn’t helping, and that isn’t fair and he knows it because he can see how much Elder Cunningham is trying to help, but Kevin is light headed and tired. The noise of a gunshot is enough to startle him into semi-consciousness. The sensation of blood is a strange one, warm and tacky. When he yawns he gets blood on his palm. He was standing in front of Elder Cunningham when the General shot the village’s butcher in the face – Kevin can’t remember his name, and he wants to cry and he’s never been an expressively emotional person, at least, not for negative emotions, he should always wear a smile, but he just can’t at the moment, it is too much here – so he is drenched and tired and shocked, while Elder Cunningham is dry, and alert and why had Elder Cunningham’s prayer been answered?

It shouldn’t have been so hard to work out what the right thing to do was, granted, these circumstances were exceptional but there were rules and Kevin had always followed them. But those rules had led him here. They should have led him to Orlando. His incredible journey should have led him there.

And then, it did.

A Hell Dream isn’t restful at the best of times, and these are the worst of times. The dream is vivid, and bright, feathered and sequined, and horrific. It seems to last and lifetime, at least ten hours of his life has been lost to the redness. He’s almost euphoric when he awakens; fear, adrenaline and righteousness pounding through him.

The village is going to be saved, and Kevin is the one who is going to do it. Up until Kevin needs to be saved, and it turns out that it is the village who does it. The village and Nabulungi, and the pageant, and Arnold Cunningham, his best friend.

The days between the events of the General, and the hospital and the baptisms and the Mission President’s visit blur into one. Kevin can’t rest, and when he finds himself stopping then he can’t bear to stop. It’s too much to try and think, it feels as though he hasn’t slept in weeks, and that he hasn’t felt peace in far longer. None of what has passed makes any sense, his head pounds, his body aches he feels violated and confused and - “of course you woke up, you drank twelve cups of coffee!”

But he hasn’t slept.

When they were seven years old Jack had stayed up all night. He’d tried to make Kevin stay up too, saying that it would be fun that they could tell scary stories and sneak around the house, maybe watch some TV or play games while the rest of the house was sleeping. But Kevin had said his prayers and tucked himself into his neatly made bed. The next day Jack was giddy with lack of sleep, he’d rocked on his hands and giggled into his cereal and he’d been sent to bed early without any dessert the next day. Kevin felt like that, watching the car-crash of the pageant unfold in front of him he could barely contain his giddy joy at the misfortune they found themselves in. As though it was happening to somebody else, as though other people were going to suffer for this, as though there were no consequences for them.

And then, at McKinley’s and Cunningham’s and Nabulungi’s faces he felt the true magnitude of the action rock into him like the swell hitting the bow of a boat.  Understanding, actual understanding, like Joseph Smith at the moment of his death, you have to believe the words because of what they can do for you, and not just what they say or who said them. Arnold Cunningham had created an Orlando, it had never been about gettingPlanet Orlando, but about making that within yourself.

Kevin smiled, delirious.

When Kevin woke up he was twisted onto the couch in the living quarters of the Mission Hut, a grown man curled up under a soft pink blanket that wasn’t his. Kinks in his back and a crick in his neck, eyelids still heavy with sleep, a dry mouth, a rested body and a ready soul. It was time to wake up, something unexpected and incredible was about to begin.

I haven’t posted fic here for ages, I haven’t watched the new Beauty and the Beast film but I really like the instrumental in the middle of the new Gaston track and I haven’t proof read this. Now that we’ve all got all the facts, enjoy.

A Man Among Men
Kevin & Arnold friendship. (Background Arnold/Naba, Kevin/Connor) Kevin gets jealous sometimes.

It was getting to the point, Arnold thought, that something had to be done about it. He knew that he wasn’t the most… delicate person, but for the life of him – sworn on the Book of Arnold even, he’d go that far – he could not work out why Kevin was angry at him.

Because he had to be angry. He hadn’t spoken to him in hours, which, wasn’t really that long. But Arnold still knew that something was up. They had a Saturday morning tradition, they always had done after they moved into their pokey little apartment. Saturday mornings were best friend time. It had been Arnold’s idea, and Kevin had picked it up enthusiastically. They both had proper jobs, like real adults, and Arnold had a girlfriend and Kevin had a boyfriend, so he’d thought it would be nice to make sure that they hung out with each other. Sometimes they watched films – Kevin had shown him Fantasia and he’d got to be there when Kevin had watched Star Wars for the first ever actual time, which was amazing – but normally they just hung out for a bit. It was nice.

But now it was 11:59am on a Saturday, and Kevin hadn’t replied to Arnold’s shouting, or his banging on Kevin’s door or to his whatsapp message. He’d been worried that Kevin was very dangerously ill or dying behind his closed door. Maybe he could have got food poisoning, Connor had said that they were heading to that open air bistro after the film and he’d been really worried – except Connor had replied to his string of texts. And Arnold liked Connor, he really did, but Kevin was his best friend and he didn’t understand why he wasn’t talking to him.

The only time he’d got a response was when he’d stood outside Kevin’s door and called out in a sing-song voice, but even then all he got was a pounding on the inside of the door and being told roughly to stop singing.

Which was hardly fair. Kevin normally loved singing.

Arnold could only think that he was in fact, somehow, to blame for Kevin’s horrible mood. But that was hardly fair. Arnold hadn’t done anything differently to normal, and Kevin was usually good at explaining when Arnold had gone too far. No one had ever done that for him before, to help him understand why he shouldn’t say or do something, not just berate him afterwards for doing something that he couldn’t understand.

Naba was out of town for the week, sightseeing with friends from her illustrating course and her texts back had been prompt and helpful and full of emojis and advice. But Arnold knew that she was busy and that Kevin was his friend, and that made this hisproblem.

Alright, so this called for serious action.

He opened the door to Kevin’s room.

Kevin never locked it, Arnold wasn’t even sure if their apartment had locks for anything other than the front door and the bathroom, but even so. It felt that Arnold was taking a step unto the unknown. Except it wasn’t that unknown as it was a relatively familiar sight in front of him.

Kevin’s reasonably tidy room, complete with vintage Donald Duck poster and, was that one of Connor’s sweaters on the bed? It certainly didn’t look like it was Kevin’s. Sweet, thought Arnold. But most notable was Kevin himself, face first and clearly in the middle of a grand sulk.

Perhaps Arnold should have thought ahead and brought Kevin in an appeasing cup of coffee.

“Why are you here?” And Arnold couldn’t see if Kevin was pouting, because he was still facing his pillows as opposed to his friend, but Arnold would have been prepared to swear it in court. Sometimes Kevin was very predictable. Which made this current behaviour, slight odd. To say the least.

“Kevin, buddy, are you seriously still not talking to me? I can only get better if I know what I did?” He didn’t expect it come out as a question towards the end, but as he said it Arnold realised that it was true. And perhaps it was slight pleading in his voice which finally caused Kevin to turn towards him.

It was strange, he felt vulnerable around Kevin and he didn’t like it. He wanted things to go back to how they had been, it was been easy and fun and then something had happened and now Kevin was sad, and angry and that made Arnold sad.

Connor hadn’t been able to say anything about why Kevin might be in a bad mood, apparently they’d had a lovely evening, and Kevin had cried at the film, but in a nice way and Connor hadn’t thought anything was wrong. Yes, Kevin had been a bit sullen, but he’d smiled and kissed Connor goodbye, so Connor hadn’t thought that he was to blame.

It was all too confusing.

And it was now officially Saturday afternoon. Time was up.

“Why do you get to be a Disney character?” Kevin muttered.

And it was quiet, but Arnold heard it. And he was sure that his face did something strange. He was sure that he’d realise if he was in a Disney film? I mean, that sort of thing was more likely to happen to Nabulungi, she was almost a princess, Arnold wouldn’t be surprised if she came back from her trip with lots of little fluffy animals as her friends. Maybe some of them could fit in the apartment?

There was a moment of befuddlement while Kevin seemed to realise that Arnold actually didn’t have a clue what he was talking about before he drew out his phone and after poking around for a few seconds held it out to Arnold, who took it sheepishly.

Arnold squinted, turning his head and even going as far as taking his glasses off to try and give them a clean against his t-shirt. It didn’t really work, and the world was a bit smearier afterwards. But still, he sort of got what Kevin was getting at.

“Kevin buddy, you know I’m not actually LeFou right? … Right?” He asked, but even before he’d finished the sentence there was a faint blush and Arnold thought that he’d caught out the problem. And Kevin had been really looking forward to Beauty and the Beast as well.

Time for some quick thinking to save the day… that wasn’t exactly Arnold’s strong point. But he’d been getting better at it lately, somehow circumstances had forced him quite neatly into it. Like a proper story telling convention. But Kevin was still sad, even as he was starting to smile, just a little bit – well, it was ridiculous – and so Arnold had to get to work.

He wasn’t the best as Disney, Kevin had been trying to teach him but sometimes thing got muddled, but he was pretty sure he was right with the villain, and it was time.

“And like, if I were LeFou – which I’m not by the way – then that would make you Gaston, and that would absolutely suck. You’re so much better than him. Gaston, boo!”

And Kevin sat up. It was the ultimate achievement only beaten by him smiling and gesturing to the empty space where he’d been prostate moments before. Arnold sat down happily with a bounce, wrapping an arm around Kevin’s shoulder. It seemed to be the right thing to do.

“Thanks Arnold. You always know just what to say.”

Arnold beamed. It had worked.

“Well, there’s no one as easy to bolster as you.”

Kevin groaned, and fell back on his bed laughing, pulling Arnold with him.

Arnold still didn’t know what was going on, or why this had got such a reaction, but at least Kevin was laughing this time. He couldn’t help but laugh along. Perhaps they’d watch something other than Disney later though?

I present a fic excerpt that’s too short for AO3, but it’s fluff. And let’s be real @slightlytookish told me I should post it, so I did. Very unbeta’d.

Salted Caramel
McPriceley
Pointless (and blessedly short) fluff.

All things considered, Connor had just sort of expected that he would be good at cooking.

He’d always had a sweet tooth, and it had taken the hard work and high stress of Uganda to finally burn off the last his puppy fat. His face was still slightly rounded, but he had matured into his body and it was harder to get granulated sugar and chocolate spread in Kitguli.

And afterwards, well.

There were stereotypes for a reason, and Connor wanted to embrace all of them. He was a gay man, decked in sequins and smiles and no longer even wished to turn anything off. Which meant embracing everything.

(Including Kevin Price. Especially Kevin Price.)

And so here was Connor McKinley, ex-Mormon in pink shorts and a theatre graphic tee in his own kitchen, in his own tiny flat and waiting for his own boyfriend to get in from classes.

It was as good as it got.

And Connor wanted cupcakes.

Kevin had stocked up his kitchen for him, and Connor had swooned a little inside seeing Kevin ladened down with plastic bags of his favourite brand of coffee, of Connor’s preferred cordial alongside what Kevin deemed the essentials. They had stocked up his kitchen in mason jars and nifty wooden boxes and Connor couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

So, cupcakes. He had the internet on his phone. It wouldn’t be hard to find an easy enough recipe, blast some show tunes and then make a treat for himself. And for Kevin. Kevin would need a treat after class. He worked so hard, and what could be better than freshly made cake?

He was sure that there was a ‘kiss the cook’ apron around here somewhere.

Half of the Hamilton soundtrack later and there were cooling chocolate minicakes on the counter. Connor had almost, almost given into temptation and eaten the remanence of the batter. But no, he was an adult. He had been a District Leader, he was responsible and he wasn’t going to make himself sick before his dinner.

Just as King George III was questioning what came next, the last of the washing up was drying and the cakes were almost cool and starting to get quite tempting.

“Empires Rise, Oceans Fall—Kevin!”

Kevin was smiling at him, it wasn’t a laugh and it wasn’t cruel and Connor had never felt self-conscious about his musical inclinations, not even back in the days when he turned everything off but Connor gestured to the cakes in order to divert Kevin’s attention.

Connor was caught mid-song and mid-dance almost daily. Cake was much more exciting.

“I made cakes.”

Kevin’s eyes lit up. So Connor had been right that cakes after class would be well received.

“Have I told you that I love you yet today,” Kevin asked picking up a cupcake and shoving it in his mouth in one, and Connor knew that he was blushing.

And Kevin had. Kevin Price wanted to make the world feel loved, he’d told Connor that he thought that loving the world would be the most incredible thing he could think of. Connor thought that Kevin was the most incredible person.

Kevin coughed, jaw working around the muffin.

“Err, Connor?” Kevin grimaced, and Connor’s stomach fell. He’d clearly done something wrong.

“You did follow the recipe for these, right?”

“Yes.” He said indignantly, pointing at each ingredient in turn, “butter, eggs, flour, sugar-”

“Oh,” Kevin said. Understanding. Connor was still none the wiser. Until.

“Connor, that’s the salt.”

Oh.

Kevin must have seen his face fall – he had been trying to do something so very nice for them and it had all gone wrong – because he tossed his bag off his shoulder and stepped forward, rolling his sleeves up.

“Nevermind, though I say so myself I make awesome pancakes. You can even help.”

Oh well, Kevin would look delectable in a kiss the cook apron. Maybe Connor could convince him to take his shirt off as well.