A/N: So, this is my response to all the angsty, depressing, heartbreaking Elder McKinley/Elder Price stories I've seen lately.

Yes, it is shameless, plot-less fluff.

If you don't like shameless, plot-less fluff, I fully understand (because I think most people don't) and I advise you not to read this.

I mostly just wrote this to make myself feel better.

Warnings: Umm... lots of run-on sentences? Also, insecure!Price. Yep. I know.

This is dedicated to my sister Eva, who told me to shut up and go work on the other story that I'm writing instead.

Disclaimer: I'm making things up again! The Book of Mormon does not belong to me.

Kevin Price really hoped that damp spot on his pillow was just sweat. Even though that would be kind of gross.

But the idea that he had been sweating was less pathetic than admitting the alternative.

Kevin Price had been crying.

Just, don't tell anyone, okay?

Especially not his boyfriend, Connor.

Connor, bless him, seemed to believe that, like, the sun wouldn't be able to shine if Kevin wasn't perfectly happy. So Kevin crying in Connor's presence—which didn't happen all that often because Kevin Price didn't cry, thank you very much—pretty much provoked a torrent of cuddling and hugging and touching and rubbing and whispered 'oh, love's, which were all very nice and comforting, but sometimes Kevin liked to breathe.

But, as it was currently 4:45 in the morning and Connor was fast asleep sprawled out across their bed, it seemed unlikely he was going to catch Kevin's moment of weakness this time.

Except, this time, Kevin seemed to have underestimated Connor's "Kevin-in-distress" meter, which tended to be fairly accurate and quite often came in handy. Like at the bar last night, when that vaguely homophobic guy kept trying to engage Kevin in a discussion of Where Are American Morals Today And Isn't It Swell That The Tea Party Is Trying To Make This Country Great Again and he just reminded Kevin so much of his father that he wanted to cry.

And Connor had showed up from like, all the way across the entire room, and literally dragged him by his belt loops (which was unnecessary as Kevin was perfectly happy to leave the conversation anyway) over to meet this guy he had known from college who Kevin hadn't really paid any attention to anyway because the whole time he had been thinking loudly at Connor, in case Connor knew ESP, (which Kevin sometimes suspected he might) thank you so much what would I do without you?

And now Connor's over-awareness of Kevin's every mood (See? He did have ESP!) was acting up again as Connor rolled over and blearily opened his eyes.

"Mmmph."

"Connor?"

Connor's eyes opened wider, and he seemed to notice Kevin was sitting up, hunched over, his knees up to his chest.

"Kevin? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Why would anything be wrong?"

"It's 4 in the morning. You're awake. Do you know what I go through every day to get you up before 8?" Connor yawned, scrunching his face and trying to shake the sleep out of his voice.

Kevin shook his head. "It's nothing. I... nothing." He hugged his knees tighter, willing Connor to go back to sleep.

"Oh, love. It's not nothing. I can tell."

"Yes it is. Leave me alone."

"Are you crying?"

Dammit.

"Kevin, love, tell me. Please."

"I—I didn't like what I was dreaming."

Connor waited. Kevin sulked. He wasn't quite sure how to explain his dream in a way that would make Connor take him seriously—it was one of those traumatizing moments that didn't exactly fit into words.

"Do you hate me because I don't pay attention to your job?"

"Hate you? What—Kevin, what on earth-?"

"Do you wish you had run off with James that one time he hit on you and would you rather be happily sleeping next to him every night and do you bemoan over the fact that you didn't go out with him when you had a chance?"

"G-gosh, Kevin, this must have been some dream."

"Do you?"

"No! I—of course not. I love you. I absolutely love you. I—where would you even get that idea?"

Kevin looked at his knees.

"I don't love James, Kevin. I love you. James is a nice enough guy, but—he's blond."

The miserable look on Kevin's face told Connor now was perhaps not the most opportune time to be making jokes.

"I'm sorry. Don't worry about James, Kevin."

"I shouldn't worry because you're secretly kissing him behind my back?"

"Oh my goodness, no! James and I are friends, my gosh. We're barely even that. I hardly talk to him. Kevin—can you tell me what you were dreaming?"

"No. I'm just being stupid."

"It is kind of stupid to think I'd hate you."

Kevin glared, and Connor clamped his hand over his mouth. He was not doing well so far tonight, in terms of keeping his foot out of it.

"I dreamed you broke up with me. I dreamed you were screaming at me and telling me I wasn't worth it. I dreamed you—I dreamed I—we—never saw each other—we hated each other—I kept crying—into a teddy bear—you were happy because you loved someone else anyway—you ignored my calls—I missed you—you left me."

Connor looked torn between being a genuinely comforting, helpful boyfriend, and—a teddy bear?

At a loss for what to say, Connor threw himself at Kevin, kissing him on the forehead. "How could you ever think that?"

Kevin was bright red, twisting his hands.

"Can you tell me about the teddy bear?"

Kevin scowled, but to his surprise, Connor didn't seem to be teasing him at all. His voice was soft and pleading—the idea that Kevin had been crying over a fictional break-up he had initiated was almost more than he could bear.

"I, uh. It didn't matter that much. Connor, I—you told me you were tired of me. That you were tired of a boyfriend who couldn't keep up with you."

Connor kissed Kevin's hands. "That's ridiculous. You know, I used to have horrible dreams all the time. In Uganda. And—before."

"Yeah, you told me."

"I think our dreams are way too brutal with our insecurities, don't you? They take whatever we're scared of most and make us live it for a few seconds that feel like a few hours. People say 'sweet dreams,' but I've never had any. It's that darn Mormon guilt."

"Do you still have horrible dreams?"

"Nope. I don't have any dreams anymore."

"Oh," Kevin looked vaguely reassured. "I've never asked you what happened in your dreams."

Connor smiled lightly.

"Well, at the time, my worst fear was someone discovering I was gay. And, of course, those dreams took place in hell—they all did. So there was plenty of fire and brimstone—but you know all that of course."

Kevin nodded. Unable to resist any longer, Connor pressed a kiss to the other boy's lips. He smiled.

"Do you want to try to sleep now?"

"Uh... not quite yet. You can go to bed. I don't care."

But the look on Kevin's face said he very much did care, and Connor sighed, but didn't lie back down.

"Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure. Uh, Christmas is coming up soon. Do you have any idea what you want to do for your parents?"

"...You change the subject by talking about my parents? You're, like, the worst boyfriend ever!"

Connor felt his whole body grow at the words. If Kevin was making jokes—horrible jokes, but it wasn't like Kevin knew how to make any other kinds—they were okay.

Connor swatted him. "Okay, fine. What are our plans going to be this Christmas? Do you want to go somewhere?"

"Uhh—yes. Yes! We have a godchild now, Connor! A godchild we have to love anyway, apparently, despite her parents' horrible naming skills. Layla Brianna Angelina Hatimbi Cunningham, that poor girl, what a mouthful."

Connor giggled.

"Let's go visit Layla, then. I have a feeling that after six months around her parents, she might be looking for some sanity." Not that you displayed much tonight, Kevin. Thinking that I was about to leave you for some guy at work I never even talk to.

"Yeah. Let's go spoil Layla like the good gay godparents we are."

Connor grinned, wider.

"Oh, please do not tell me you are going to try and buy that poor girl some clothes. Just cause you're gay, Kevin—if you haven't noticed, it actually hasn't helped you in the 'colors that match' department yet."

Kevin looked sheepish. "I miss my missionary uniform."

"Yeah, I can tell. Okay, then. You let me buy Layla the clothes and you can spoil her with your dancing skills."

"Are you making fun of me again?"

"I always am, hun."

"I dance just fine, Connor. And I've never heard you complain about anything my body's done before—"

"Kevin!"

"That girl is going to be darn lucky to see me dance. I'll wow her—"

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but six-month old babies aren't always the harshest critics."

Kevin shrugged. "She's going to love me."

Connor kissed him again, just a peck. "She'd be crazy not to."

"I have to get up at 7:30 this morning."

"Maybe you should try sleeping for the two hours you have left?"

Kevin shrugged. "Maybe. I'm sorry for waking you."

"Hey, it's fine. I've had my fair share of sleepless nights. It's best not to go through that alone. Dreams seem less real when you share them, don't they?"

"You're kind of an expert."

"Only on the bad ones."

Kevin flopped back down on their sheets, and Connor lay beside him, placing a hand on Kevin's chest.

"Love you."

"Love you too."

"See you in two hours."

"Don't remind me."

"Mmm. Next time we break up in your dream, remind me to run off with someone who can actually sleep through the night."

"I bet James can."

"Want to invite him over? We can find out."

"Umm... no. No I do not. Next time we break up in my dream, remind me to find someone who loves me enough not to make fun of me when I'm hurting."

"Oh, goodness, Kevin. I love you, okay? Now be quiet, and let me go to sleep."

"I love you. More than James. And Layla. And everyone else."

"Definitely more than James. Good night, now."

"You mean morning."

"I do mean morning. Thanks to you."

Connor rolled over onto Kevin's chest, smiling. Sometimes, Kevin's 'I love you's gave him more energy and will to get through the day than eight hours of sleep.

Sometimes.