The Cavity

The Cavity
Kirby / Gooey / Tulok / Meta Knight

“We are home.”

“That sounds like it went well.”

Meta, dead in the face and son under his arm like a football, can only stare over at his wife. The smirk just barely visible on her face is telling.

“Trips to the dentist never go well. First, he bites the assistants. Then, this little turkey—” And Meta gives his son a good jiggle for emphasis, drawing out a laugh even as the boy continues to pout—“—froze over half of the building. Equipment and patients. So. We’re going to have to pay for that.”

Kes looks not at all surprised. Actually, if one looks closely, they might see her expression twitch with just the slightest bit of interest. Impressive.

Kirby watches the entire thing with no small amount of interest himself. His dad looks run absolutely ragged, his wings dragging behind him, Tulok swinging with each step. Tulok, a grand seven years old, has his arms crossed and his face is pinched like a rubber band eager to snap.

Which doesn’t make much sense, but the idea seems oddly fitting.

Tulok says not a word though, because the moment his little mouth opens Meta is giving him another half-hearted shake, and a glare that could probably freeze over South Nova more than Kes ever could. The little monster is subdued, and honestly? It’s really funny.

Kirby takes the liberty of grinning and laughing Tulok’s way, leaning back in his seat and ignoring the stern looks from his parents for the movement. For what it’s worth, he feels proud of the kid! Dentists are awful, everyone knows that, and good on Tulok for telling them to shove it.

He doesn’t say it that way, but it’s pretty obvious. “Hey, that’s pretty cool, buddy! Get it?” And before anyone can reach over and wallop him, he winks. “I never liked the dentist either. Glad you showed them what for!”

“Kirby—”

“In fact, you know what? Good deeds deserve a reward!”

Because Tulok looks not happy at all, and his parents don’t seem to care, and boy they can’t have that. Kirby’s gotta stick up for the underdog, he’d always been the opinion of.

So, he reaches in and procures a choice morsel from one of his very many candy stashes. A chocolate bar, as long as his whole fist and half as wide, dragged from one pauldron, and how it actually got in there, nobody will know. A novelty in rainbow wrapping he’d been saving up since he got it from halfway across the Star, and Tulok sure deserves it.

“Here you go, you little icicle. Chocolate hot off the press.” And there he dumps it on the table, free for the taking.

He can’t just very well let Tulok sulk there all day when he’s probably had the worst time of his life. Kirby sure knows, the bad memories are proof enough.

And Nova if it doesn’t turn that frown upside down in less than a nanosecond. Up to now, Tulok had been mostly quiet, unwilling to entertain the pleasantries of unsympathetic adults. Now, the kid looks like he’s about to burst into a pile of confetti, as much as he starts shaking and opening his mouth and talking about how cool Kirby is and how thankful he is reaching out and--

“Ohhh, no. He just got back from the dentist, Kirby, we’re not ruining a two-hour cleaning and rewarding him for it.”

Meta dumps Tulok – gently – into his designated chair at the kitchen table, where he lands in a pile of hair and feathers. “You,” He says to his youngest with a point, “eat your dinner. Then you can have a piece for dessert.”

“But Kirby said!”

“And Kirby isn’t always right, kiddo. Sorry.”

If Meta hadn’t already been in a sour mood, Kirby’s sure Tulok would have had some mighty words to say. But, faced with a luxury chocolate on the table, unable to touch it, the only thing he can do is let out an iresome yell in his throat and sit there.

Reminds him of himself at that age.

Kirby watches Meta take the candy from where it sits forlornly on the table, probably to keep greedy little hands from making a grab for it, but his smirk is genial, accommodating. “Don’t worry, kiddo,” He says, in full earshot because who’s going to stop him? “Got more where that came from! You can have all you want after dinner.”

Again. Who is going to stop him.

“Kirby.”

“What! Candy never hurt anyone! Look at me!”

Off to the side, Kes can only watch from the corner of her eye, her mouth turned up just so as she picks up her fork. Meta looks at Kirby with hard molten amber that could’ve cowed anyone had he been a little bit younger. And Kirby doesn’t see the issue, genuinely.

“Kirby,” Meta starts, and his tone is slow because he knows exactly that Kirby doesn’t get it. “Tulok is going to get a cavity. He just went to the dentist. Besides that, do you know the kind of damage I need to pay for because of a routine cleaning? Can you imagine what would happen if he needed a filling?”

Kirby thinks about it. Meta can probably even see the cogs turning in his head, for all the effort he’s putting into it.

“He won’t.” Kirby announces. “He’s a big boy! His teeth are tougher than that. Besides, who here’s had a cavity in the past five years? Ten? Huh?”

“That’s not the point, Kirby.” Meta puts his hand over the bridge of his nose, knowing the argument that’s coming simply from years of experience. “Just because it hasn’t happened doesn’t mean it won’t. I’m not going through that again.”

“Look, I promise it’s not going to be a problem. Heck—” And Kirby gestures at the boy, now buried in his dinner while the adults have their adult talk. “I’ll even take him to the dentist myself if actually does get a cavity, okay? You won’t need to deal with a thing. Come on, trust me!”

And Meta gets this look on his face that Kirby knows well. It’s a look of frustration, the way his frown creases, his eyes pinch, how he looks like he’s sucked on the worst lemon in the universe. The way he looks when he really, really wants to argue, and he can’t come up with anything.

Kirby feels his grin stretch.

“Come to think of it.”

Kes, his mother, never is one for theatrics or making herself well known. He figured she was listening – she always is – but maybe hadn’t cared much.

Wrong, apparently.

“When was the last time you went to the dentist? Kirby?”

Oh boy.

It’s not something that gets discussed anymore, given Kirby is a big boy now and he can do what he wants, but the dentist isn’t just the bane of Tulok’s existence. Often Kirby’s eating habits would result in many, many trips as a kid – and lots and lots of tears, and pulled feathers.

Kirby hates the dentist. They’re an affront to food lovers everywhere, in his opinion. The dentist doesn’t want anyone to eat anything, and he won’t have it.

It's fine. He’s been to the dentist awhile ago. It’s fine.

This he tells his parents with a cheeky smirk, bright and charismatic as he reaches out to pluck the chocolate bar back from Meta’s unsuspecting grip. “Oh, just awhile ago! Geez, you act like I’m still Tulok’s age.”

“Being seven is cool.”

“It sure is, buddy.”

Kes’ expression is a little too knowing, but she says nothing. Meta is also not exactly oblivious, Kirby thinks, through sheer experience raising him more so than anything else, but who cares. What’s he gonna do? Ground him and drag him for an exam?

Kirby takes the chocolate bar to his mouth and bites, large enough to break the thing clear in half. Self-assured, confident, happy without restrictions. It feels good being an adult.

--- Pain.

Kirby really, really isn’t a stranger to pain. He’s been stabbed, shot at, beaten into the ground, thrown off cliffs, burnt to a crisp. He really isn’t unfamiliar with the way his nerves sizzle every time they feel something they don’t like.

Kirby’s had tooth pain too! You do tend to feel it after the latest boxing match with the resident demon beast.

But this pain is different.

It rings right down from the back of his jaw, needle-sharp and acute, and as the chocolate melts in his mouth it gets worse, and Kirby is suddenly having to hold his jaw with his hand, so he doesn’t do something stupid. Like cry.

His reaction is not lost on the others, but for Kirby, it’s Gooey who draws his attention. Gooey who had, up until now, made his peace sitting on the sidelines, devolved from the conversation and content well enough to eat his food without trouble. Gooey feels his pain better than anyone. He’s hardwired to.

He feels it half as if it is his own, and for a split-second Kirby feels the impression of concern-worry-question wash over him like cold water. For a mere second. And then, as realization dawns, the water breaks and the heatwave pushes against him, annoyed and exasperated and chastising.

Gooey’s stern glare is about as irked as he feels. Kirby’s half tempted to throw a piece of cheese at him just to get him to shut up.

“It’s fine,” He bites, cheer forced through his tongue and not at all convincing. “I just—bit my tongue is all. Really, don’t worry!”

Gooey’s stare sharpens to a needle-sharp point, a volley of accusation-frustration-reprimand following hot on its heels, insistent and unable to be ignored. And who does he think he is, huh? Badgering him like that?

“Mind your business, Gooey!” It’s a hot tone he takes, one as biting as the emotions and impressions pressing against his mind through their shared connection. Even as Meta and Kes trade looks, and Tulok watches on with wide eyes, Gooey is unphased. Kirby doesn’t exactly like being told he’s wrong.

Gooey, with one singular motion, gestures to Kirby’s dinner laid out in front of him. Leaning forward, eyes narrowed, he stares, and Kirby feels him bleed through their connection, deliberate and intent. A challenge. A bluff. Eat, he might say. Try it.

Kirby refuses. Kirby argues.

And as Kirby argues, and Gooey echoes feelings and wordless thoughts right back, Kes and Meta stare from the sidelines at an argument that they will never hear. Kirby had tried to explain it once – that it’s a mental connection, that Gooey sort of speaks to him, but not really – and they know that there is something going on at this moment that they can never be privy to.

But still. Every time they argue, and every time it gets heated, it always looks like Kirby is just. Talking. To himself. It never ceases to be distracting. Not even for Tulok, if only because he finds the entire thing immensely funny.

Gooey keeps a remarkably straight face the entire time, so it seems more like Kirby is yelling at him than anything. But there’s a twitch in his eye, a huff of his breath that betrays him. He’s calm.

But then Kirby growls, because Gooey will not keep quiet. Because Gooey doesn’t leave well enough alone. He stands with a hard skid of his chair screeching across tile, wings flared in confrontation.

“You know what? I’m not hungry! You have ruined my appetite. Good job, pal. I’m leaving.”

Would have been impressive if it were true.

He steps back, moves as if to leave. Kirby fully intends on it, back to his room, maybe even out the window and into the plains beyond.

Would have, if he didn’t find his arm constricted, suddenly, from wrist to shoulder.

It’s a sea of emotion, sensation, not-thoughts that reach him, so pervasive and all-consuming that Kirby can barely hear himself think, much less parse out what’s being given to him.

Gooey is angry. Gooey is irritated. Gooey is indignant and steadfast, determined, and through this, he sees flashes of images and gets impressions. White walls. Posters full of children, smiling ear to ear. A doctor. A dentist.

He feels intent, underneath it all, just as Gooey yanks.

It’s only through years of trial and error, and through the bond that comes forged between Warrior and Guardian, that Kirby even knows to translate what Gooey is giving him. Anyone else would have gone mad. Probably.

They’re going to the dentist. Kirby isn’t stopping him.

And Kirby’s blood runs cold.

“No we’re not--!”

He shouts as if to thin air, yanking, harder and harder, flapping his wings, but through it all Gooey is unswayed. He floats still as stone and the tongue creeps like a snake, quick as a viper. Wrapping, around wings, around his torso, far longer than it had any right to be.

He’s no longer standing. He is in the air not of his own means. It feels unnatural.

“Gooey! Gooey!”

Kirby flails, pulls at the restraints. The fear drums deep, anxiety and nerves a pit in his stomach, and no amount of idle calm-safe-ease from his guardian can soothe it.

“Let me go! You can’t just take me—You need an appointment! Gooey!” He snarls, but the noise is only superficial. Both of them know that. “I’m your Master and you will let me down—Don’t laugh!”

Gooey isn’t, physically. But Kirby feels it.

He looks, frantically, over at the rest at the table. Kes and Meta in some blank confusion listing their gazes, Tulok watching like it’s some kind of comedy movie. “Mom! Dad! Help!”

They don’t move. Gooey gives them a cursory nod as he makes his way out, more than aware that they probably have no clue what’s going on and content enough with that because they’ll figure it out eventually. Betrayal stings.

It’s surreal, Meta thinks, watching the way Gooey and Kirby leave and the way Kirby grips the doorframe with all his might before he is inevitably swept away by forces not his own. He yells the entire way.

He could infer, well enough. And by the way Kes looks at him, she knows the same.

It’s not as if Meta didn’t know Kirby’s little secret from the onset. His dentist, although bound by patient confidentiality, had a way of letting. Hints. Slip. Meta would have given him a dressing down had the boy not been stubborn to the ends of the universe and an adult on top of it.

Gooey knew it better than Meta himself. Gooey hadn’t cared. He was far better fielding Kirby in that way, and for that Meta is thankful.

Still, he thinks, looking down at his second son, the one who had caused such trouble earlier today. The one who had no idea what was happening.

Still. If this is how Kirby acts. Then he really doesn’t want Tulok to be missing anything. Following his brother’s example.

Why in Nova does everyone hate the dentist so much?

-The End-

Artist Comment:

December 22, 2022

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Not even the Great Star Warrior Kirby is immune to cavities!!! Tulok and Kirby HATE going there, but it looks like Kirby has been avoiding his checkups for quite some time. oAo
Gooey is the only one who can get that stubborn warrior to see a dentist, though he has to completely restrain him first. XD

The AMAZING literature written for this illustration was commissioned by my good friend, Dogblog. (dA- Shadowrealmprincess)