A/N: Oh my gosh, you guys, thanks so much for the lovely feedback, here and on tumblr. You guys are the best.
Okay, this one's a little long. It's dedicated to my synagogue youth group, which every year decided to have a bowling night, and every year, never did.
Chapter 3—The Rolling Way
Elder Davis's flip-flops were navy blue with white stripes. They cost $5 at Target, and they were a going away gift from his brother.
At first, Elder Davis had been kind of annoyed. He was going away for two years and he got—what, a pair of flip-flops? Not even a card? Not even a hug?
Not to mention flip-flops were entirely useless in a world where his missionary uniform called for smart black dress shoes every day, and tap shoes on Saturday. And although Elder Davis still had no idea why his brother thought the shoes were a good idea—or why he thought bringing a bunch of prescription pills to school to sell was a good idea either, for that matter—they had turned out to be pretty useful.
After being excommunicated from the church, the first thing Elder McKinley had done—even before appointing himself totalitarian ruler (but a nice one!) was make Friday "casual Friday."
This meant almost nothing to the other Elders, whose style choices were pretty much confined to "tie or no tie," but Elder McKinley had managed to pull an entire wardrobe of lavender button-down shirts and khaki shorts out of nowhere.
Of course he had.
And Elder Davis could wear his flip-flops, which saved him from washing his socks one day earlier.
But tonight, none of the Elders were wearing their nice shoes, their even nicer tap-shoes, or even their flip-flops. Tonight, they were wearing bowling shoes.
Because, for some reason, Elder McKinley had decided tonight was team bonding night. And apparently at his youth church group back in Utah, bonding night meant bowling and movies and pizza.
So here they were. At a bowling alley. A fairly decrepit, rather dark bowling alley 90 minutes away from their mission house. The kind of bowling alley that only served french fries after dumping a bucket of grease on them.
Sometimes, Elder Davis thought, it should be illegal for Elder McKinley to be this persuasive.
Well, maybe persuasive wasn't exactly the right word. Elder McKinley had pleaded with them—and even made breakfast two days in a row—until all the Elders had caved under his clasped hands and wobbly pout, agreeing to go to bowling night.
It was just really hard to refuse Elder McKinley anything. Especially when you knew he'd treat you to a full song-and-dance performance about it, if you gave him enough time.
Elder McKinley had been, from the start, the only Elder genuinely excited about tonight.
Well, the only Elder willing to show his excitement publicly, at any rate. Privately, a few of the other Elders had agreed it might be kind of, well, not the worst thing in the world to get out of the missionary hut for an evening. And of course, they had shown plenty of outward, fake enthusiasm, because Elder McKinley pouting was a terrible thing.
In fact, it had become a bit of a running joke—who was most excited for BOWLING NIGHT?
Elder Schrader had won that competition, they all agreed, by waxing poetically about the feel of a bowling ball in his hands at breakfast the previous morning. (There had been lots of innuendo.) And while Elder Davis had to duck under the table because he was laughing so hard, Elder McKinley had completely failed to notice anything.
Elder McKinley was currently already in his size-9 ugly maroon bowling shoes, bouncing around on the uneven wood floor next to a rack of bowling balls.
Elder Davis traded in his flip-flops for equally stylish saddle sneakers. He sat down next to Elder Price, who seemed frustrated with his own shoes' inability to tie properly.
Elder Price had been the only Elder not to get involved in the "how much do we love bowling" joke, instead choosing to roll his eyes whenever the idea was mentioned.
Yet not even his bad attitude had bothered Elder McKinley, who had just laughed at his friend's whiny behavior and said, "what, you're afraid I'll beat you?"
Elder Price had managed a tiny grin at that.
"Hiya, Elder!" said Elder Davis. In truth, he was thrilled to be outside their small village.
Elder Price winked at him, tugged on his laces, clapped Elder Davis on the back, and jogged over to Elder McKinley, who was doing... jumping jacks? Dear G-d, this was not a track meet.
Elder Davis's eyes followed Elder Price, his white shirt untucked, as he ran all the way to Elder McKinley's corner of the floor. They were too far away for Elder Davis to make out what they were saying—all the caught was a lot of arm waving and a few shy smiles.
Elder McKinley turned back to the shoe rental area, ready to round up the troops.
"Okay, Elders. Listen up!
...Elder Church—put that shoe down! That is not what God intended that shoe for—oh, dear. Oh my goodness! Elder Church, you stop that!
Guys.
Dudes.
Boys. Boys, listen to me!"
"Shut up," said Elder Price, his voice dripping with politeness.
No one wanted to risk not listening to Elder Price.
Elder McKinley shook his head.
"Right, thanks. Okay! Here we go. Split up however you wish. First two lanes. Let's go!"
Elder Davis found himself typing his name into lane one's gritty keyboard, alongside Elder McKinley, Elder Price, Elder Cunningham, and Elder Church. The tiny TV screen hung from the ceiling above the lane, showing their names and their scores (all blank) in 20-point type.
Elder McKinley grabbed the first sparkly blue ball as Elder Davis and his companion Elder Church collapsed onto the cracked leather seats several feet back from the stacks of balls.
Elder Davis offered his companion a small smile.
It felt weird.
He didn't suppose he smiled all that often. Elder Davis worried too much for that.
By contrast, Elder Church never seemed worried about anything. Elder Davis supposed there was nothing to worry about if you never broke any rules, or were very good at turning things off.
A sudden shift in personal gravity alerted him to Elder Cunningham's presence on their bench. The newest arrival leaned over Elder Davis to tap Elder Church on the shoulder, and Elder Davis knew it was time to begin the arduous process of tuning Elder Cunningham out.
Instead, he focused his attention on Elder McKinley and Elder Price, standing side by side at the edge of the bowling lane, watching Elder McKinley's ball veer to the right along the wooden pathway. The ball disappeared behind the lane, taking nine pins with it.
"Yay!" cheered Elder McKinley. He bounced up and down, clapping.
"A nine? I can do way better than that," said Elder Price, nudging the District Leader.
"Sure you can. Let me get my spare first."
Elder McKinley missed his spare. Elder Price earned his strike. Elder McKinley pouted. Elder Price grinned.
While Elder Cunningham fervently tested every bowling ball on the rack in preparation for his turn, Elder Davis clacked onto the floor with a plain, black, far-too-heavy-for-his-scrawny-arms bowling ball. He rolled a paltry six, but couldn't bring himself to care, because he had found something far more interesting.
The thing that was interesting was standing by the bowling rack.
It was the tension between Elder Price and Elder McKinley.
And it has just moved over to the hot dog counter.
Elder Davis strained his ears.
"I'll pay," Elder Price offered, but Elder McKinley waved him away.
"Thanks," Elder Price said, a few minutes later, around a mouth full of hot dog.
"I can't believe you actually think you can beat me at bowling!" Elder McKinley offered, by way of response.
"Oh, believe me, sir. I can. I can crush you. I can utterly annihilate you. You will be offering me a crown."
Elder McKinley spluttered.
"Kevin Price! You watch your mouth!"
"What—you going to tell my mother?" Elder Price smirked.
Elder McKinley raised his eyebrows. "No, but I will... I'm going to— If I win, you're going to have to... you'll be baking me a lot of cookies, Kevin Price."
Elder Price looked down fondly at the other Elder, whose face had gone as red as the ketchup on his french fries.
"Sure. Anything you want, love. But when I win..." he leaned down and whispered something in Elder McKinley's ear, causing his companion to resemble a beet.
Elder Price let his hands rest lightly on Elder McKinley's shoulders for just a moment, before trailing his fingers down the other Elder's arms. Elder McKinley pushed him away, but at this point, it was impossible for him to be any redder.
Wow, Elder Davis thought. Subtlety. Elder Price doesn't have it.
He found himself suddenly torn between the 14-year old girl part of his brain, which was squealing and cheering for the forbidden love story playing out in front of him, and the itch in the back of his head that was telling him that his two friends could be in serious trouble if anyone found out.
If God found out.
...
What was he talking about?—of course God knew. God knew.
And Elder Price and Elder McKinley were still here.
They weren't racked with terrifying hell dreams. They hadn't been struck by lightening.
No burning brand mark had appeared on their forehead.
They were still here—perfectly fine. Staring at each other with perfectly sappy, dopey. love-y, obvious looks on their faces.
Which meant... God... didn't care?
Approved, even?
Wow. Imagine that. God personally approved of Elder Price and Elder McKinley's relationship.
Well then, so did Elder Davis.
Elder McKinley saw Elder Davis watching the two of them, watching their hands touch, and turned—since it wasn't possible to be any redder—pale white. Elder Davis, not one for words, shook his head and smiled lightly. He waved Elder McKinley off with his hand, seeming to say, "I approve of that boyfriend of yours. Don't make me come over there and say it to your face."
Like he was Elder McKinley's grandfather.
Elder McKinley looked like he wanted to burst into laughter. Or tears.
He grabbed tight to Elder Price's hand before letting go, quickly.
Still afraid.
"Come on, Kevin, it's my turn."
"Alright, I want to see this gutter ball."
"KE-VIN. You be quiet, you hear me?"
"Sure, Mom."
Elder McKinley looked like there was nothing he wanted to do more at that exact moment than kiss the boy standing next to him, smirking.
He didn't.
Instead, he walked up the bowling rack and grabbed a ball. Pink. Ten pounds.
Elder Price grabbed one of Elder McKinley's french fries and stuffed it in his mouth.
Elder Davis looked back at Elder Church, yawning.
Oblivious.
He looked at Elder Cunningham, stealing french fries.
Oblivious.
He looked at Elder McKinley, who was all of a sudden quite distracted, and unable to get a ball to roll straight.
He looked at Elder Price, swinging his arms back and forth, a few feet behind his... boyfriend.
He watched the points tick up as the bowling frames went by. He watched Elder Price's inability to throw a ball anywhere but straight down the center. He watched Elder McKinley get increasingly frustrated with Elder Price's bowling perfection.
He watched his own score barely move anywhere, and he watched Elder Cunningham stuff himself with french fries.
He watched Elder Price's flirty hand gestures on Elder McKinley's shoulders—how had he been so blind?
He watched Elder Price's utterly ridiculous victory dance, and Elder McKinley's more ridiculous pout.
And in no time at all, it was time to head back to their village, where all the Elders were considerably louder than normal.
There was something in those french fries.
"Thanks," Elder McKinley whispered to Elder Davis, once they were crammed into the back of their van.
Elder Davis shrugged.
Later that night, Elder Price and Elder McKinley ended up on a small bench just outside their hut.
"You need to be more subtle, darling," Elder McKinley said to Elder Price. "Elder Davis noticed."
"Noticed what?"
"...I'm not sure, exactly. He noticed."
Elder Price shrugged, then pumped his fist in the air.
"That's three down. This religion is less homophobic than I thought."
"Don't you care?"
"Why would I care if people knew about my lovely boyfriend?"
Elder McKinley swallowed. "I guess you're right."
"I usually am. Now, if I remember correctly, I was also right about that bowling thing. I think I won tonight. By a lot."
Elder McKinley groaned.
"You owe me a long night. Want to start now?"
"Will you bake me cookies in the morning?"
"Did you win our bet?"
Elder McKinley kissed him softly, refusing to sink low enough to answer.
"One more thing." Elder Price said, against his lips.
"Hmm?"
"I've never actually bowled before."
Elder McKinley smacked him.