The task of pulling weeds made Kevin remember how he'd gotten cut from the football team in high school. The missionaries were essentially useless as physical laborers and Elder McKinley had decided to meet the Ugandan people halfway by employing the newbies in whatever low-grade, menial things that were needed. Something about getting in touch with the community through work, which Kevin thought was absolute hogwash coming from McKinley, who spent more time wagging his finger at his underlings in colorful ties than he did actually doing anything himself. It just wasn't fair that the most devout, deserving missionary was sentenced to the most boring, painstaking task their mission had to offer.
And on top of that it was bringing back memories of high school. Hunched over a patch of unidentifiable plants, Kevin recalled how he had tried out for the football team once, and in one set of tryouts had torn a ligament in his hip and gotten a black eye. And that wasn't even accounting for the burns from his knees skidding on the turf of the field as he fell over on his face. Kevin gritted his teeth and pulled harder on the big-leafed, thick-stalked plant he had wrapped his hands around.
To make matters worse, Elder Cunningham seemed to be having no trouble with this. But at least it was keeping him quiet. Kevin took a tentative glance over at him. His face was shiny with sweat and his glasses were slipping precariously down his nose but he had developed a large pile of green and brown stalks, whereas Kevin's was little more than a molehill.
Elder Cunningham immediately noticed that he was looking at him and grinned. "Isn't this fun, Elder?"
"Very," Kevin said, trying not to sound strained. "It does make one feel very...invigorated, to engage with the Ugandan community." He made an audible grunt and wrenched the plant out of the ground in a spray of roots and dirt, sending him stumbling backwards a few steps.
"Hey, brother, stop!" Elder Cunningham dropped his work and jogged over to Kevin. There was an odd combination of Kevin's hands smarting with the strain of pulling on those stalks for so long and being slick with sweat. Elder Cunningham eyed him as though he was analyzing a lab specimen. Kevin's newly pulled vegetable dangled uselessly from his hands. "Have you seen your face? You're all red!"
"We're...working hard, is all," Kevin said, reaching up to wipe his forehead.
"Are you off your rocker? You're totally sunburned!"
"What?"
"You've never gotten a sunburn? I used to get those all the time, hey, hang on, come sit down. My dad used to make me stay out on the beach on vacation even when the burn was so bad that my face was peeling off because he said it would've been rude to leave, but he's not here now, right, so you can go sit down over there." Elder Cunningham's stream of small talk seemed to go through Kevin's mind but never really hit any nerves. He felt oddly dizzy, and could do nothing more than let Elder Cunningham lead him to sit down underneath a tree with large, bulbous roots. "My backpack's over here, I've got some stuff in there. Did you not know you had a sunburn?"
Kevin sat down. "Elder, I'm fine."
"What are you talking about? You're not fine! And I'm your best friend so I'm gonna take care of you!" He had produced a bottle of sunscreen with an expression of absolute glee on his face. "Why do you always call me Elder?"
"It's your title. Like Mr. or Mrs. You know what I mean."
Elder Cunningham had to shake the bottle of sunscreen to get any of it out, and when it did come out it came in a gigantic glob in his palm. "But aren't we-"
"We're mission brothers. You know that our church is all about being polite, don't you?"
"But what if I don't want to be just polite?"
"Well, I don't know," Kevin said. "But personally I think just polite is fine."
Elder Cunningham reached out and before Kevin could stop him, began to smear sunscreen all over his cheeks with either hand. "I used to hate this part so much when I was a kid. I'd hide under the bed from my mom when she tried to sunscreen my face. It's so...slimy."
"I..Indeed," Kevin said, screwing up his face as Elder Cunningham dabbed sunscreen on his nose. "I don't need to sit here, I feel fine now, thank you, Elder."
"So you feel better?"
He had to admit that he actually did. As quote unquote slimy as it was, the presence of the sunscreen did somehow ease the pounding in his head. "Yes."
Elder Cunningham seemed to be at a loss for words. "So I...it...you're?"
"What?"
"You're...grateful?"
"Yes. You're looking a bit red in the face yourself, Elder."
"Could you...not call me that?" He looked away, a sheepish grin still on his face. "How about Arnold, instead? That's my name. I think it's polite to call me that, right? I mean, I don't know a whole lot about polite, but that's polite, right? Right?"
"Well, yes."
Elder Cunningham bustled around in his backpack for something. Kevin could not help noticing he still had sunscreen on his hands. He came out with a somewhat crushed bottle of water that had had its Poland Spring label ripped from it, leaving the white adhesive remains on the clear plastic. "You just stay here, best friend. I'll be done with the garden in no time. You can have some of this in the meantime." He was smiling so much Kevin thought he looked like he might explode.
"Thank you...Arnold," Kevin said, feeling as though it was pointless to fight it anymore. Elder Cunningham bounced back out into the field. He hummed to himself, something Kevin couldn't recognize. Kevin straightened his back against the trunk of the tree, listening to the buzz of what he thought were cicadas and feeling the hot heaviness of the air around him. He sighed and reached over for Elder Cunningham's crushed, unpleasantly warm plastic water bottle. Back when he'd fallen on his face on the football field he'd had to drag himself to the nurse's office while everyone else ran their sprints and blew their whistles. Kevin took a swig of water and thought that, for once, it wasn't so bad.
Man, I just love Price/Cunningham, I had to write something cheesy and fanfiction cliché about them.