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It hurts. You shove the tip of your tongue along the area where your wisdom tooth is growing in. Only this one hurts. The bastard on the bottom right. It's downright criminal how bad this shit hurts. It's all sore and tender, yet here you are, jamming your freshly brushed tongue against it like a colossal dumbass.
Thinking of your best friend sitting across from you, you grimace and hold your right cheek. The fucking tooth is more than likely compacted with your luck. Maybe not. It's not like you took great care of your teeth, but it's also not like you could control what direction or how the damn things grew. You have a hole in the back of a molar on your top left side, but it doesn't feel nearly as bad as a wisdom tooth. Wisdom your ass, you think.
The only wisdom it offers is the art of romance. It's how you got sat down in front of your best bro with a bag of frozen peas pressed to the side of your face.
"This shit is poetic, I'm telling you, Karkat. You got me the frozen peas. That means something, right? Cliché? Like-"
"I'm going to stop you right there," Karkat says, stopping you right there. "What it means is that you're being a wriggler about some teeth popping in. I bet you didn't complain this much about them growing in as a toddler."
"Okay, well, I was dodging swords and sparring as a fuckin' toddler, so not much room to complain about my teeth, dude," you huff, resting your face against the peas with your elbow resting on the table.
"My bad, Strider. I bet you don't even remember your other teeth growing in. Can I add that it's biologically ridiculous that your teeth are aching so much, and-"
"Okay, I'm going to stop you this time. I know you'll never be blessed and serenaded with the gift of wisdom teeth poking through your gums at all sorts of funny angles. But this shit is sore and perpetually sore. It doesn't stop. It's climbing up my cheeks like a chimp on fuckin' crack, bro."
"There's no way it's as bad as you're bellyaching."
"And there's no way you'd ever know what it's like, so ha," you shift the bag of peas around and sigh. Karkat stands and puts his hands on his hips, which you eye from behind your shades. If your jaw weren't so raw, you'd easily get lost in imagination.
"Ugh. Okay, fine, fine. You're right. I won't know what bellyaching over some teeth as a pupated adult is like. Is there anything I can do to make this oh so tragic event easier on you?" Karkat rolls up his sweater sleeves and comes around the table to ruffle your hair. Annoying, but not when it's him.
"Maybe make me some soup. Make sure to salt it, by the way. No one likes unsalted Italian wedding soup, dude."
"Yeah, yeah. Maybe the Italians should've salted it more, huh?"
It's such a simple thing, but it's not like anyone ever cared so much to do little things like this for you. It's nice. It makes you feel.. content.
He makes you soup, and it's probably the least saltiest fucking soup you've had. It also doesn't do much to help your tooth, but Karkat made it for you. That's enough.