A/N: I know hell dream hurt/comfort stories have been done time and time again, but I will never ever get sick of them and I wanted to join the party. Let's give it a shot wahey)
The walls of the LDS District Nine headquarters were unquestionably thin. Funding to Uganda wasn't in the Church's top priority, and the supplies used in building the place were meager at best. Strong enough to keep the house from crumbling to the ground, at the very least. That being said, privacy was a luxury. When night falls on the Ugandan countryside, the creaking of mattresses and light snores created by the sleepy missionaries could be heard by any occupant, whether upstairs or in the lounge area.
Elder McKinley became an expert at being silent. He'd quickly learned to slip in and out of bed with quick and quiet ease, to take a tea pot off the boiler before its singing could begin, and to open dresser drawers and closets without a sound. McKinley held a small, sad bit of pride in this talent. He'd never woken anyone once during their mission, not even his room mate and mission companion, Elder Thomas.
Connor liked to pretend he got up in the early hours of the morning to prepare for the day, organize shelves, make breakfast, but the truth of the situation always sat at the back of his brain, tugging at his mind. It was present in his shaky hands and in the goosebumps pricking up his arms.
It was the nightmares. Hell dreams, McKinley sneered to himself. They'd started in middle school and hadn't skipped a night. Despite their frequency, there was something about them that one could never get used to. He continued to wake up every morning dehydrated from emitting tears and sweat, and learned, quite simply, to turn it off.
Elder Price was the only complication in McKinley's system of silence. He was a notoriously light sleeper who had caught McKinley out of bed before wake-up call more than a handful of times. Kevin, luckily, seemed oblivious to the disturbed dimness in McKinley's eyes, and the two shared casual conversations while the orange sun rose. McKinley knew he had mentioned his nightly Hell dreams in passing, but that didn't mean he had to remind Price of that anytime he asked why he was always up so early. Connor just told him he felt responsible for getting things ready and left it at that.
This particular morning was more exciting than the rest; the house was abuzz with activity as the missionaries prepared for their monthly field trip to the next village over. Some of the Mormons would be staying overnight for baptisms into the Cunningham sect. A month ago, this would have been scandalous; breaking rules about separating companions, leaving the mission house past curfew, and other guidelines the team had thrown in a bonfire shortly after their excommunication.
"Alright, Elders," McKinley gathered his District into a small, formal line. "Do we understand our formation?"
The group nodded, Arnold particularly excited. "We'll go as a group, then you and Elder Price will come back here to make sure the mission house is safe."
"The rest of us will return in the morning with the baptismal records," Elder Thomas finished, smiling.
"Let's head out, then," Price announced. He turned to head out the door, the rest of the group in tow. McKinley never minded when Price took small leadership roles, finding it sweet in a sense.
The Ugandan morning was cloudy and not as hot as it would have normally been, which made the short and steady trek to the village a few miles away considerably more enjoyable. Nabulungi and her father, Mafala, joined the group on their way to act as something similar to diplomats. Naba took Arnold's hand, drawing a subtle frown from Mafala, but his approval of Arnold's positive effect on his village kept him from objecting.
Connor spent the walk listening to Elder Schrader ("I, for one, didn't like the nonlinearity of Pulp Fiction.") and Kevin ("It gave the movie more interest, don't be so compulsive.") discuss films, throwing in his two cents every once in awhile. Price's voice and Schrader's sardonic opinions gave McKinley some comfort, shoving memories of last night's visions away where he couldn't find them. Kevin would look to McKinley every so often and smile.
After a short hour had passed, the group had arrived at their destination. A handsome, slender brown-skinned man led the mass of white boys and their two African friends to their sleeping quarters. Cunningham would be bunking with, to his outright joy, with Nabulungi. Church and Thomas had another room to share, and Mafala found himself paired with Neeley. The group sorted themselves out into pairs. After settling in, they took their boxes of red-leather Books of Arnold, and headed to the center of town for a sermon.
Cunningham was the slightest bit jittery as a group of the village's residents gathered to hear from "that weird white guy from the other town" they'd heard about, but a clap on the back from Price was all he needed to put his nerves to use. His friend beamed at him from the crowd as Arnold explained his doctrine, founded on friendship and acceptance, all riddled with sci-fi metaphors and retellings from the Book of Mormon. Arnold's audience clapped politely as he finished speaking, and a handful of them approached to ask questions and take a book. Nabulungi stood beside Arnold for the duration of the event, the two intensely proud of one another. Connor and Kevin shook hands with villagers and helped in circulating the new bible.
The missionaries returned to their temporary quarters, elated at how well the sermon had gone. They had four baptism sign-ups after only one event, and plenty of other possibilities. McKinley noted the setting sun and told Price it would be in their best interest to return to their headquarters before night fell. The latter agreed, and the pair waved goodbye to the celebrating group and headed west.
Kevin and Connor chatted excitedly and warmly for the first half of their walk, before ebbing into comfortable silence. McKinley was relieved to finally have Price to himself, even if their talking was kept to a minimum. The sky had begun to blend into a bruised purple when they returned to the district house.
"Do you think," Kevin pondered, "that we should bunk together tonight?" He looked over his shoulder from the sink, where he was finishing the dishes left over from breakfast. "If that's alright with you. I don't know if I'd even be able to sleep alone, I'm so used to Arnold's snoring."
Connor laughed, lightly and affectionately. Kevin was surprised to find himself blushing. "That would be fine, Elder Price. And I do agree; it's strange to have the house so quiet."
As the pair finished the necessary chores and began the process of preparing for bed, McKinley found anxiety settling over him. It was the sort that always preceded sleep, as preparation for the nightmare sure to follow, but the added weight of Kevin's presence put him further on edge. Just be silent, McKinley.
Price picked up on Connor's sudden nerves, noting his conversation responses were spoken just a half a second too quickly and that the leader's blue eyes never quite met Kevin's. "Are you alright, Elder McKinley?" he asked.
Connor flinched. "I'm just a bit tired, no worries."
"Let's go to bed then," Kevin stretched, untucking his white button-up just enough to give McKinley a glimpse of tan skin beneath it. "I'm pretty worn out too."
Connor nodded and told Price he'd be upstairs momentarily. He waited until the Kevin's footsteps were softened by the ceiling above him, and sat down waveringly at the dining table. Just one night, keep yourself together just this one night.
Kevin was awoken by a soft gasping sound a few feet away from him. He turned from his back onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow. In the dim moonlight peeking through the curtains, Price made out the figure of his district leader curled up away from him, tugging the blanket over his head. Kevin felt himself flashback to his first week at the Ugandan mission, remembering McKinley's casual mention of having nightly Hell dreams. Price felt lucky to have only experience two of the nightmares in his life.
Price also remembered McKinley's early risings, how Connor was always downstairs no matter how early Kevin got up. A sick, guilty sensation filled Kevin's stomach.
"That makes so much sense," he said aloud. In the bed next to him, McKinley nearly fell out of bed in alarm.
Between heavy breaths, Connor hurriedly wiped away any remnants of tears and asked, "What does?"
Kevin watched his district leader with curiosity and gentle pity. "I never made the connection between your dreams and your early risings," Price explained, "I had completely forgotten and I'm sorry."
McKinley leaned back against his headboard and sighed. He couldn't bring himself to look at Kevin. "No need to apologize. I deserve it, anyways."
"Don't you start with that," Price snapped. Connor finally looked to the other boy, startled. "We established after we separated from the Church that there is nothing wrong with you."
"Do you really expect that after years of-of," McKinley found himself stuttering. "Of turning it off, for me to be a-okay with myself?"
There was an edge to the leader's voice that made Kevin pause. "I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing to me, for goodness sake," Connor covered his face with his hands, slowly smoothing his eyebrows and palming his cheeks. He forced himself to avoid Kevin's constant gaze. "Go back to sleep, Elder."
"Call me Kevin," Price stated. "And I will only if you do."
McKinley groaned. "I can't, El-Kevin. I've tried and I can't."
Price was up and out of his bed before Connor could finish his sentence. He gently, firmly, and quickly pressed Connor back down into the mattress. Kevin hesitated only a second before pulling the sheets back and laying down beside him, arms crossed determinedly.
"Then I'll help you," he said. "I'm not going back to sleep until you do."
McKinley felt his face flush. Price was barely five inches from nose. He could feel their knees touch and Kevin's bare arms brush against Connor's hands. Connor nodded, flustered, and closed his eyes in a feeble attempt to sleep. A comforting sensation enveloped his body, and McKinley was quickly asleep once more. Kevin raised his eyebrows at Connor's steady breathing and looked up at the clock. He was relieved to find that it was only eleven o'clock, meaning they'd barely been in bed for two hours. Price settled an arm beneath his pillow and followed Connor into slumber.
"Kevin?"
Price's eyes opened immediately. He glanced at the clock to find that barely two hours had passed, then returned his gaze to McKinley. One of his hands was over his mouth, the other clenched so tight next to his chest that his knuckles had turned a bleak white color. He looked like he was trying to repress tears.
"A-are you alright?" Price placed a trembling hand on Connor's shoulder, tracing it with his fingers.
"I told you," McKinley shut his eyes and shook his head. "I told you, I told you, I told you. I can't do it."
"You seriously had another nightmare," Kevin paused his hand's motions. "I can't believe it." For the first time, Price noticed the dark bags under McKinley's eyes. How in the hell did I never notice?
"Just go back to bed, Price," Connor removed his hand from his mouth, trying to sound authoritative.
Despite himself, Kevin found himself smirking. He slid his hand down from McKinley's shoulder and wrapped his arm around Connor's waist. Price tugged Connor closer to him, and Connor rested his head awkwardly against Kevin's collarbone, too shocked to resist. Kevin shifted down to press his forehead to McKinley's. He edged his other hand between Connor's to remove it from his mouth, and clasped it against the crook of his neck.
Connor blushed for what felt like the hundredth time that night as he felt tears spill from his eyes. Kevin reached forward, leaving McKinley's hand against his throat, and cradled Connor's face in his palm. His smirk expanded into a smile as he felt Connor's breath hitch.
"It's okay."
McKinley squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. Price smoothly brought Connor flush up against him, parting Connor's knees with one of his own and letting him cry into his neck. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself as McKinley began to talk; explaining his dysphoria and discomfort, what happened in the visions he had every single night, how tired he was of being exhausted and scared, and how embarrassed he was to have someone see him like this. Kevin listened intently, all the while stroking Connor's feather soft hair and placing daring kisses on his forehead.
As McKinley finished, Kevin edged back far enough to look at the man he never thought he'd get to hold. Kevin smiled sadly and fondly re-parted Connor's hair. McKinley let out a shuddering breath and returned the gaze.
"It's okay," Kevin repeated. "You'll be okay, I promise."
Connor closed his eyes against as Price stroked his cheek with a slightly calloused thumb. He wrapped his arms around Kevin's neck allowed Kevin to talk to him, comfort him, pet and embrace him. He allowed himself to let someone in.
McKinley was a bit bewildered the next morning, not because of the arms still wrapped around him or because of the lips still pressed against his forehead, but at the rested, awake feeling he hadn't felt in years. He touched the tip of his nose to Kevin's and brushed their lips together. Price awoke with a contented sigh and beamed softly at Connor.
"That was a lovely way to wake up, I must say."
"Thank you."