Augh, I hate going to the dentist.

Dentaphobia, fear of dentists.

Dentaphobia

I was never afraid of anything in the world except the dentist. ~Taylor Caldwell

"You're so fucking cute." I laughed, earning a disapproving glance from a nearby mother and smirking at the agitated redhead who'd buried himself in my side. His bright green eyes glared up at mine and he clutched my hand like his life depended on it. "Not funny." he managed to squeak, shoving his face further into my ribs and making me grimace.

"I had to hold him down one year while they drugged him up." Stan mentioned cheerfully, rubbing his super-best's thigh comfortingly. If I didn't think Kyle needed all the support he could get, I would throw a hissy fit over it, but now isn't the time to be possessive. "I think I'm gonna be sick." he groaned, clawing slightly at the back of my palm.

"Hey!" Stan teased, "That's my thing."

Kyle took a deep breath and started to list, "Hydrogen, helium, lithium, berylium, boron, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, fluorine, neon, sodium, magnesium, aluminum..."

"He does this every year?" I checked, watching him rock back and forth-like his father in prayer-and continue to list. It used to be counting backwards from a hundred, then it was quoting The Raven, and now it's the periodic table of elements. Gotta love it.

"Three times a year." Stan corrected. "You know how much of a freak his mom is. I've been going with him since he was eleven. It was worse when he had braces. He had an appointment once a month."

"Argon, potassium, calcium, scandium, titanium..."

"Seriously? Poor thing. Look, he's trembling." Kyle was more or less lost to the world by this point, clutching my larger hand in both of his and squeezing his eyes closed tightly.

"Nickel, copper, zinc, gallium, germanium, arsenic, selenium, krypton..."

"I've never been to the dentist." I commented, getting a nod from Stan. "I don't think I need it. See?" My teeth were straight and white. I have my mom's teeth.

"Rubidium, strontium, yttrium, zirconium, niobium..."

"He's always had perfect teeth, too. Crazy bitch, I say. Burn 'er!" he thrust an imaginary pitchfork in the air demonstratively.

"Rhodium, palladium, silver, cadmium, indium, tin, antimony..."

We sat quietly, waiting to hear the busty blond nurse call 'Broflovski, Kyle' out into the waiting room, the only noises being Kyle's rant and Mrs. Mom and her bratty son's quiet conversation.

Sure enough, Nurse Blondie called not a moment later, "Broflovski, Kyle?"

Kyle shook his head in denial, gripping his hair and nearly shouting, "URANIUM, NEPTUNIUM, PLUTONIUM, AMERICIUM, CURIUM, BERKELIUM, CALIFORMIUM, EINSTEINIUM-"

"Shush!" I scolded, and his monologue faded into a whisper. I held his hand as we walk through the halls, trailed by a softly smirking Stan, and glared at an elderly man who muttered something about homos. He could suck my balls, respect for the elderly be damned. Kyle hid his face in my sleeve.

Finally, we reached the room-those reclining chairs make me nervous-and me and Stan halfway-forced him into the chair, where he gripped the armrests anxiously and finished in a pained whisper, "Ununquadium."

He clutched my hand painfully tight, in both of his, and Stan sat near his feet, reading a book and stroking his ankles absently. Again, jealousy pushed to the side.

I hated the procedure almost as much as he did. I caught every grimace when he was having his teeth scraped over, I caught every flinched when the intern caught him in the gum, I caught the nausea on his face when he accidentally swallowed the weird-ass toothpaste ("He always manages to swallow some." Stan mused, earning a tear-filled glare), caught the hatred in his eyes as he stared at the little spinning brush. I noticed how his hands balled into fists at his sides when the woman chose to spray water in his mouth and suck it out in favor of giving him a cup and allowing him to spit into the sink, noticed that he shuddered with revulsion and choked on the fluoride.

The nurse called in the Orthodontist, Dr. Dumbles, who looked him over, poked around in his mouth with latex-covered digits (that damn possessiveness, I swear), and deemed him ready to go.

He sat up and bawled.

You read that right.

He fucking cried.

I froze in shock. Kyle didn't cry. Kyle blushed, Kyle screamed, Kyle hit, Kyle ranted, Kyle monologued, Kyle went emo and hid under beds. Kyle did not fucking cry.

I lost some serious boyfriend points there. I really did. I blame myself completely. Because I froze up and did nothing but stare as he sobbed into his knees, tucked under Stan's arm and against his side. The doctors and nurses left out casually, as though this was normal. Maybe it was. After all, Stan took a moment to mouth to me over his head that he'd be fine.

I took a little relief from that when he calmed down a little, he reached for me. I like to think I made up for my lack of a response with kisses and comforting caresses.

I'll make it up more tonight. After all, his mouth is really clean, am I right?

OoO

Kinda lost the spirit of it when he actually got called in, sorry. I'm working on something amazing that came to me in a stroke of genius. Enissophobia. Style. Wendy-bashing, Stan-abuse, and Kyle-torture. Beautiful.

Jury's still out on Dishabiliophobia. Oh, and I'm calling on you to give me more suggestions, vote, and figure out what fear of bad eyesight or blindness is for me. Please?

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