Huckleabbot and post-wisdom teeth removal anesthesia anyone? 🦷💤
Dennis didn’t really… go to the dentist growing up. His parents were serial about brushing every morning and night, flossing every day, and using mouthwash. He grew up with fine teeth—one of the few of his brothers to not have a wicked crossbite. He just never went to the dentist.
Dennis’ wisdom teeth came in when he was eighteen, and his teeth stopped being fine. They grew cramped, his bottom teeth in particular getting snug enough that he could barely get a string of flows through. But as a freshman in college he still didn’t have dentist money. Twenty, twenty-one, and twenty-two passed without any serious issues related to his wisdom teeth, and he got used to working around them. He did medical school and started his residency, used to his teeth.
And then his teeth started hurting. It was subtle, at first. A little tightness in his jaw when he woke up. A mild ache when he’d spoken a lot in one day. A sudden increase in liquid spilling from his mouth whenever he drank without a straw.
Abbot noticed, because Abbot noticed everything.
Dennis didn’t know exactly what was happening between him and Jack. There was no label to it, so far. Dennis got switched over to night shift the last two months of Robby’s sabbatical, and between the craziness of the hospital in the evening, and the gnawing loneliness of being on the opposite schedule of Trinity, Dennis found some level of socialization in Jack.
It started with talking during the shifts, and moved on to breakfast at Waffle House afterwards, and Jack driving him home. It was the eighth time in two weeks that they were together, and when Jack dropped Dennis off at his apartment, he leaned across the seat of his truck to press a kiss to his lips. Dennis froze, then, one hand on the door handle and the other on his bag, before he surged back to meet Jack again, practically falling over the console. Something twinged painfully in his jaw when he did it, but he didn’t care, his focus entirely on the way Jack’s arms wound around him, holding him close, wanting.
And then he started sleeping at Jack’s, among other things he also did at the older man’s home.
One mid-afternoon, Dennis and Jack didn’t have work, and had woken up late. Dennis meandered into the bathroom while Jack went to make them food. Dennis borrowed Jack’s toothbrush, running the bristles under the water before adding a dollop of toothpaste, and began to scrub at his teeth. A searing strike of pain so obtrusive and shocking keeled him over, his hand gripping his jaw tightly, eyes squeezed shut as it emanated through him. Jack found him swishing his mouth, grimacing, eyes brimming with tears.
So, he and Jack weren’t dating. They were just fucking, getting food together, and working at the same establishment. But Dennis was on Jack’s insurance, and Jack was paying to get Dennis’ wisdom teeth removed. None of it made any sense—regardless, that’s how he ended up here, gauze packed thickly into his mouth as the orthodontic surgery nurses helped him into Jack’s truck.
“He’s been very brave,” one of the nurses nodded emphatically as Jack leaned over the seat to buckle a gooey, droopy Dennis into the passenger seat. “Lots of our older patients get pretty emotional after. I think he just needs a nice nap!”
The nurses and Jack chuckled, and Dennis deflated into the seat, tired eyes slipping shut.
“Yeah, he’s a good kid,” Jack smiled at them, “thanks for all your help.”
The door shut, and Dennis was alone with Jack, about to be staying at the older man’s place for the first while of recovery before he’d get carted back to his and Trinity’s apartment. Jack’s hand came down on Dennis’ thigh, gently squeezing, as he began the drive home.
Dennis was delirious. The words flowed from his mouth before he could stop them.
“‘Dey thought ya were my dad, Jack.”
“Did they?” Jack laughed, and drummed his fingers against Dennis’ knee. “Maybe it’s cause of my grey hair.”
“Y’could be,” Dennis breathed, and slouched further, knees spreading further apart haphazardly, “if you’d had m’when you were, uhm,” Dennis’ jaw ticked, the gauze soaking up the blood, “twenty two?”
Jack’s hand slid away from Dennis’ thigh, moving instead to curl around the back of his neck. Dennis sighed, leaning into the touch.
“I could be, yeah. I don’t mind that, though.”
There was something smug in Jack’s voice. A little pleased. It flew over Dennis’ head, the warmth of Jack’s hand perfectly distracting. A laugh tumbled from Dennis’ mouth, garbled, muffled.
“I like it.” Dennis admitted, free, easy. Jack’s hand massaged his neck more firmly, thumb rubbing at the side with the perfect sort of pressure.
“Y’know what?” Jack hummed, and turned the music up with a button on the steering wheel, “I think I like it too, baby.” He glanced over to Dennis. “And I like you.”
“Y’do?” Dennis glanced over. “For real?”
“For real,” Jack grinned softly. “I’ll ask you out when you’re coherent, sweetheart.”
“Awesome,” Dennis nodded, “boyf’rend.”
“Boyfriends,” Jack confirmed.
