Floss // A Harry Styles AU

twenty-two

Harry

Torture was the only way to describe Harry's day. At least that's what he'd have you think - the worst day of his life. If you asked and he told you how his day was, that's the impression he would give. The reality was, it was far from a terrible day. It was easy, really - no massive operations, no wanky patients behaving like they knew better than him. Yes, of course my seven years of studying my profession pales in comparison to your ten minute research bout on Google, Mr Jenkins.

There had been none of that today, it was just slow. Tedious at a push, but mostly slow. All he'd had were check-ups, and all of them were fine. Mostly, anyway. There was that one teenager with a metal tongue piercing damaging the back of her front teeth. Nothing a plastic replacement couldn't resolve.

After a thorough clean, he locked up his office (finally), and headed downstairs to the reception area ready for Susie to finish. She was on the phone to a patient, which made him antsy. He tried to look busy and sifted through a pile of letters in the outbox for the postman tomorrow. Some of the envelopes were blank, some had 'REMINDER' tattoed in a little black ink stamp, and others with 'FINAL REMINDER' in a red one. One of them with a black stamp stood out like a sore thumb.

Miss Florence Fuentes-Carter
21 Aldsworth Road
Bibury

Harry glanced over his shoulder where Susie was still talking, oblivious to him. He snuck the letter out, neatened the pile again, and then ripped the letter in two. He then shoved the two halves in the shredder. The loud buzzing that erupted for words on paper to be decimated made Susie jump. He mouthed his apology when she turned a startled look on him.

Floss didn't need to be reminded of her requirement for a check up. He'd save her the heart attack/aneurysm/stroke, whichever came first. He was still slowly working on getting her to open up about that whole... thing. This crippling fear she had that snookered him in so many ways. On reflection, he thought how lucky he must be to have her around the way she had been. People with irrational fears of dentists didn't usually spend so much time with one. Perhaps it was some kind of extravagant exposure therapy, although this seemed unlikely. If it were the case, she'd have had ten appointments by now to make sure her teeth were perfect. Alas, that had not happened. He must just be lucky.

He was watching the clock tick away on the wall. It was 6:05 now - he was already late.

"No!" Susie gasped. "No, you're lying! I thought it was just a rumour! Gosh, what a palaver. Shame for that poor sweet girl, though. And Owen."

The name Owen sounded familiar to Harry, but he could've been thinking of anyone. Maybe even someone he met in Manchester. Whoever Owen was, and whatever he was going through, Susie sounded distraught for him.

But Harry had no time for distraught. He needed to leave. Like, right now. He cleared his throat, leaning against the counter that stretched along the back of the reception area, filled with any and all dental-related-shit anyone could think of.

Susie didn't take a hint. "Well, exactly. Maybe I'll send some flowers to the house. Is that too obvious?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Blatantly obvious sending flowers - how could you possibly announce to Owen and 'that sweet girl' that you'd been gossiping about their life in the most inappropriate setting? Sending flowers was as stupid as taking a frying pan and wooden spoon, banging them together whilst marching through their house and shouting, "I'VE BEEN TALKING TO OTHER LOCALS ABOUT YOU AND YOUR PRIVATE LIFE ON MY WORK TIME."