Here is my Book of Mormon Secret Santa gift for @prophetarnold! I am so sorry that I didn’t have time to do my AU idea / make a longer fic, but I do hope you enjoy this fluffy holiday ficlet! ⛄🎄🎁 CC: @bom-events
Christmas in Uganda just isn’t the same as it used to be back home. It’s hot and dry and Kevin is pretty sure the Christmas sweater Arnold had made for him was beginning to melt into his skin. He’s sweating. There isn’t any snow. They don’t have a tree. All they have is makeshift egg nog spiked with Ugandan gin, homemade Christmas attire, and one measly string of twinkle lights.
But at least he has a cold drink in his hand and a good view of the other side of the hut, where Elder McKinley is standing on a ladder, attempting to hang a string of multi-colored lights around the window. The back of his red and green Christmas shirt hikes up just a little as he strains to catch the wire onto the curtain hook, revealing the small of his back. Kevin knows it isn’t polite to stare, and he certainly admires Elder McKinley for more than just his skin—his really, really soft skin—but he just can’t help it; he’s transfixed on the sight. So transfixed that he jumps a little when his best friend claps a hand to his back.
“Hey, buddy,” Arnold says, in a quieter voice than usual. “So what did you end up getting for Elder McKinley?”
Kevin isn’t quite sure he’d heard that right. “What?”
“For the Secret Santa,” he whispers, presumably so that the other Elders wouldn’t hear them. “What’d you end up getting him?”
“How do you know who I got for the Secret Santa?” Kevin narrows his eyes, trying to suppress a smirk. “It’s supposed to be a secret, remember?”
“Uhhhh…. I don’t know.” Arnold shrugs, but his lies are always ridiculously transparent. He scratches at his head. “Lucky guess?”
Kevin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay.”
“Anyway, what’d you end up getting him?” His question comes out more like a squeal and the smile on his face his big and loving and genuine. It always is, making it nearly impossible for Kevin to ever really be annoyed by him. “I heard you were at the market for hours the other day.” He winks and elbows Kevin in the side. “So, it must be something good.”
Kevin looks down and shrugs, giving the glass of spiked egg nog in his hand a little stir. He doesn’t usually drink—they’d only recently relaxed the rules enough to do so and he still feels a hefty amount of religious guilt—but if he’s going to go through with what he’s planning to go through with later on that evening, he’s going to need a little liquid courage. (Okay, maybe a lot of liquid courage).
“I got him a gift card,” Kevin says, glancing up just in time to see his best friend’s face drop.
“A—a gift card?” Arnold wrinkles his nose. “That’s what you got him?” Kevin nods and takes another sip from his drink. “You spent the entire day at the market and all you got him was a lousy gift card?”
“There isn’t even anywhere to shop around here, Kev—what’d you get him a gift card for?”
“That,” Kevin grins, and gives his best friend a bop on the nose. “Is private information.”
“Private?” Arnold looks confused for a moment, but it doesn’t take long for his eyes to start lighting up with ideas. “Ooooh, I bet you made him one of those romantic coupon thingies, right? Like for a free back massage or an hour long foot rub or a night of—”
“No.” Kevin holds up a hand to stop him. Whatever his best friend was about to say, Kevin knows he doesn’t want to hear it. “We aren’t even dating, yet, Arnold.”
“So, it’s a little early on for me to be making him free massage coupons.”
“Then what is it?” Arnold begs, but Kevin knows he has to hold his ground. He’s already nervous enough as it is, about what he’s planning to do. The last thing he needs is for his best friend to start blabbing it around to everyone else at the party; or, worse, loudly cheering him on from the other side of the room.
“Come on.” Arnold gives Kevin’s shoulder a gentle shake. “You owe me one, buddy. I rigged the Secret Santa for you so that you’d get each other and now you won’t even tell me what you got him? It isn’t fair and you know it.”
“Ha!” Kevin shoves a triumphant finger in his friend’s face. “I knew you rigged it.” Arnold rolls his eyes. “And, if you must know… the gift card I got him is for Elder Ghali’s House of Chicken, but that’s all I’m telling you.”
Arnold blinks. “You—you got him a gift card to the chicken place?”
“I spent hours of my life trying to figure out a way to rig the Secret Santa so that you’d get each other and that’s what you get him? The gift of undercooked chicken and stale beer?”
“That’s right.” Kevin takes another sip of his egg nog, trying to hide the smirk on his face. He doesn’t tell Arnold that it isn’t even a real gift card, that he actually had Elder Ghali make him one out of a piece of cardboard and a marker. He was going for symbolism here, the details of the actual card weren’t all that important.
Arnold sighs. “This was so not worth writing out twelve pieces of paper with Elder McKinley’s name on it and giving you a separate jar to pick from that looks exactly like the real one.”
“Trust me, buddy.” Kevin wraps an arm around his best friend and leads him back out into the party. “It’s not just a gift card.”
“You’ll see.” Kevin grins, downing the rest of his egg nog in one shot as they walk out into the living room.
