Pricingham One Shots!

whOOPS my hand slipped and I wrote more Pricingham drabbles!

 A.N.
  Please request!

  The man was the cutest person that Kevin had ever seen, a mop of black curly hair, flushed and freckled chubby cheeks, shining eyes, large glasses, and an adorably lopsided, gap-toothed grin; he had just bought an enormous ice-cream cone, and was staring at it as though it was the most amazing thing that he’d ever laid his glittering eyes upon.

 Kevin never found himself doing anything spontaneous, no, he always thought everything through to the greatest detail. But, when that man dropped his ice-cream cone, and he looked as though his very heart had shattered, Kevin couldn’t help but rush over to him.

 “Hey!”

 The man raised his teary eyes to him, and his face contorted from utter despair into blushing awe, though Kevin didn’t know why.

 “I saw you drop your ice-cream, and just please let me buy you another one-!”

-

 “Hey Kev, can you spot me a few bucks?”

 Glancing up from his phone, he raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend, who was paying for something at the cash register. “Um, why?”

 “Because I don’t have any change left after you had us start using that pun-jar.”

 The woman who was checking them out chuckled confusedly.

 “What’s a pun-jar?”

 Now it was Kevin’s turn to chuckle, walking up to the register and pulling out his wallet. “It’s like a swear-jar, where you have to put a dollar in every time you make a really bad pun.”

 “Yeah, but you don’t even make any puns! It’s literally just me putting money in there!” Arnold pouted, crossing his arms. “It’s….punfair….

 Sorry, I had to.”

-

 Linking arms with Arnold, Kevin felt around through the inky blackness for the wall so that they could have something to guide them. “Gee, it sure is dark in here…” He mused under his breath, and Arnold inhaled sharply.

 “I GOT THIS!!” He cheered, stomping aggressively until his light-up Sketchers flashed a dull pink and blue.

-

 Waking up in the middle of the night, Kevin found that he was alone in the bed, an unusual thing for him after dating Arnold for three years. Sitting up groggily, he rubbed his eyes and shrugged off the blanket. Standing up, using the wall as a brace to do so, he was determined to find Arnold, when he was startled by the sound of someone weeping in the living room.

 Walking down the hall, he noticed that the living room light was on, and so was the t.v. It was there that he saw Arnold collapsed on the couch, tear-soaked tissues surrounding him. The sight both confused and worried Kevin, and he hurried over to him.

 “H-hey, are you alright babe?”

 Arnold sat up, wiping off his glasses and shaking his head sorrowfully. “Nuh-uh, nothing’s alright!” Sitting down beside him, Kevin grasped one of his hands and squeezed it supportively.

 “Well, what seems to be the problem, love?”

 “MY FAVORITE CHARACTER JUST DIED!!!”

 Kevin deadpanned before finding himself struggling to hold back a chuckle. “Aw, here, here.” He cooed with a slight giggle as he pulled his boyfriend into a hug, placing a small kiss on his forehead before resting his head on top of Arnold’s curls. “Will cuddling make it better?”

 Sniffling for a moment, Arnold leaned into the hug, nuzzling against Kevin’s chest and holding him tight.

 “Uh-huh.”

-

 “I’m thinking maybe a spring wedding, or maybe fall! I don’t want it to be cold though, y’know?” Arnold asked as he plopped down on the couch beside Kevin, hugging him warmly. Kevin stiffened at the words though, setting down his book and staring down at him.

 “...We’re not even engaged, darling.”

 “-so thAT’S WHAT I FORGOT TO DO LAST NIGHT!”

-

 “Fucking hell!”

 Arnold gasped and shot daggers with his eyes over at Kevin, who was pulling some sort of food out of the oven.

 “Watch your language!”

 “Fucking heck.” Kevin grumbled as he placed the pan on the counter. “I burnt myself when I was taking that out.”

 “Want me to kiss it better?” Arnold asked as he slid over to the cupboards in his fuzzy socks, pulling out a plate and plopping a big piece of the casserole on it.  Kevin shook his head and got himself a plate.

 “No thanks, I don’t want your mouth-germs on my wound.” Raising his gaze, he saw that Arnold had already gone back to the table. “Uhm, you might want to wait though, dear, because it’s going to be really hot!” But it was too late, Arnold had already shoved roughly three forkfuls of it into his mouth.

 His face contorted with disgust, and it seemed as though he struggled to swallow down the food. “Pep, I’m sorry, but your cooking is awful. It tastes like I bit into an old lady.”

 “What kind of simile is that??!”

 “What kind of cooking is that??”

 “...Touche.”