Archive of Our Own

Even the world’s best sharpshooter needs to go to the dentist.

It was 8PM on a Friday night. People your age should be out on dates or maybe at a club or a bar– certainly not still at work. You didn't really mind, though. Going out and socializing after a long and stressful week of a job that already requires you to be social really wasn't your thing. You'd much rather lie in your pajamas, in bed, surrounded by your plushies and watching anime. Hey, if it works, it works.

You were waiting in an exam room in your dimly-lit office for your last patient of the day. Your employees had all clocked out, so you were alone. Late-night appointments, specifically to accommodate clients who worked late hours, were far more relaxed and not as rushed as those throughout the day. You preferred them, really– they allowed you to connect with and understand your patients better. That was part of the reason why you wanted to go into medicine in the first place. Your gaze shifted to glance out the window.

Two stories below, there were a few cars on the road and a few people out, but one individual caught your eye. A shady-looking figure in all black, presumably a man, and wearing a fedora was pacing outside the building your practice was in. It was hard to make out small details from up here, but you could tell he was smoking. The hypochondriac part of your brain that spoke up one day in dental school and never really stopped talking tutted at him. 

He flicked something onto the pavement (probably a cigarette) and crushed it with his boot (definitely a cigarette) before walking into the building you were in. Although there were a few other medical practices in the same building, you couldn't help but wonder if he was who you were still waiting around here for. You double-checked the calendar note on the boxy computer monitor in the corner; 20:00 examination , and then your name as the clinician. There were a few additional notes– Jigen Daisuke, emergency patient, with symptoms of pain . You stood up, turned on the lights in the exam room, and stepped out to see if he had shown up.

The waiting room was empty, save for a familiar figure lounging in the corner. The shady-looking man from earlier was sitting with his legs crossed and his hands behind his head, watching the fish tank in the corner. The first thing you noticed about him with this closer look was how good-looking he was, even though half of his face was hidden under his hat. You couldn’t possibly date a patient, but that never stopped you from thinking, “damn, they’re kinda hot” about some of them. He was ruggedly handsome, with a sharp jawline, dull brown chin-length hair, and a neatly-trimmed beard. His figure was slender, aside from a slight paunch under that dress shirt of his. The man was a little mean-looking with a resting scowl, but that didn't scare you.

“He'd look a lot better smiling,” you thought.

“Jigen Daisuke... That's you, right?”

Jigen looked over at you and stood up, shoulders taut, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Please follow me,” you chirped, and led him down the hall. 

Two quick and relatively easy x-rays later, you led him into the exam room. You sat down on your stool and pulled up the images on the computer to take a closer look at later. Ah, the wonders of digital radiography.

Jigen started to pull off his suit jacket. “If you wouldn't mind removing your hat too,” you urged. 

“Sure,” he muttered, setting his fedora on the chair in the corner along with his jacket. Shaggy, unkempt bangs shaded his eyes. The romantic in you bemoaned the fact that you didn't get to see the rest of his pretty face, making the professional in you give it a swift kick in the teeth. He settled into the blue leather chair in the center of the room, and you introduced yourself with a handshake. The reek of tobacco clung to him, along with a more pleasant sort of amber scent. 

“‘Jigen’… That's a pretty rare surname when it comes to Japanese,” you mused while putting a patient bib on him. “Where’re you from?”

“The U.S., born in New York City,” he said in English. “That makes two of us from overseas, don't it?” You smiled a genuine smile and nodded. You internally thanked the gods for not making you fry your brain by translating this late in the day, before picking up a clipboard and pen from your desk. 

“Now, since you're a first-time patient, I usually offer a free cleaning along with those x-rays we took. Is that fine with you?”

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“Alright, I've also got a couple questions for you before I go poking around.”

“Ask away.”

“When was your last dentist appointment?”

“I don't keep track of these things, doc,” groaned Jigen. “Maybe a year ago?”

You clicked your pen and wrote it down. “Any allergies to medications or metals?”

“Everyone’s allergic to lead,” he said, smirking at his own joke. You stifled a laugh at the bluntness of it, and checked ‘not applicable’. He did look better smiling. You ignored how your heart fluttered.

“Do you smoke, at all?” You already knew the answer, thanks to your really cool observational skills, but it was protocol. He nodded. “Do you have a history of high blood pressure?”

“Dunno, probably not.”

“That's fine,” you marked it down. “Now, I've got a note that says you have a toothache. Is that still true?” he nodded slowly. “Any other symptoms, such as bleeding, sensitivity, or any movement in the socket?”

“Sensitivity, I guess. Hurts like a bitch when I try eating anything cold, like I’m being stabbed,” explained Jigen. “It’s a little sore otherwise.”

You frowned, noting it, then set your clipboard aside. Sensitivity could just be from normal wear-and-tear, but his smoking habit made you consider gum disease as a potential cause. “I'm sorry to hear that, but the good news is that it doesn't sound too severe. Where does it hurt?” you asked, rolling your stool closer to him. He lifted a hand to tap his left cheek, which wasn't noticeably swollen. In the back of your mind, you considered the possibility that talking might also exacerbate the pain, as he wasn't doing much of it. The pain was also localized, which was a plus. All were signs of tooth decay, but you'd need to take a look to be sure.

“How long have you been in pain?”

“About a week,” he spoke, then suddenly groaned and went to grip his cheek. You quickly found a mask and a pair of gloves to put on, and wheeled back over to him, reclining the chair. You reached up to turn on the overhead lamp and grabbed your mirror and probe before you noticed his splayed hand and uncomfortable expression. 

“I should've mentioned that I get kinda jumpy at the dentist…”

You shrunk away from him a little, embarrassed. “Oh– I'm so sorry, I should've asked,” you apologized. “Just raise your hand whenever it's getting to be too much for you, and I’ll let you take a break no matter what, okay?” you rambled, and Jigen gave you a quick thumbs-up before parting his lips for you. You were about to begin the examination when an idea hit. 

“What if I talked you through it? Would that help?”

“You can try it,” he said, a pinch of doubt in his voice, and you started the exam. The typical smoker’s gingivitis was present, as you figured. His teeth were a little crooked, with some crowding in the lower front. 20– the left mandibular second premolar– was also missing, but it seems to have been lost within the last year. Other than that, things looked fairly well-cared for, which was something you didn't come across as often as you'd like to.

“So, I'm seeing that your gums are a little inflamed, but cutting back on smoking and a bit of extra attention should let them heal up no problem,” you said. “This might be a little uncomfortable,” you then scraped some build-up from between two molars– 31 and 30, a voice in your head supplied. He flinched slightly, and whether it was at the noise or the sensation, you couldn't tell. Your chest panged with guilt, nearly making you flinch as well, but you remained steady.

“You okay?“ you asked. He gave you another thumbs-up. “Let me know if it gets to be too much,” you reminded him. You continued to clean up most of the rest of the lower jaw, softly explaining things here, some blood spotting there, until you got to the side he’d been complaining about. The space where a second premolar should be was a little inflamed, but had long healed from whatever happened to it. Despite the bit of good news, you pursed your lips behind your mask, knowing that wasn't exactly ideal for an implant. You would remind yourself to bring it up later. The first molar directly beside it, tooth 19, definitely had a cavity in it.

Something must have happened– you must have hit a particularly sore spot, because he let out a pained yelp. You were about to blurt out an apology when you blinked, and were staring down the barrel of a gun.

You held your breath and backed away, holding up your hands. You were able to see one of his eyes, blown wide from fear, as he held the revolver tightly. He was sitting up now, and beginning to hyperventilate.

“Calm down, I didn't mean to hurt you,” you said softly, as calmly as you could manage. “I’m gonna put these down now, okay?” You slowly moved to set your instruments aside on the tray. Jigen’s wary gaze followed your every move, his grip on the gun trembling as his breathing slowed to a more normal speed. “I’m sorry I scared you, it was an accident.”

This seemed to sedate him just enough, and his line of sight darted to his hands with far more awareness. “ Shit , ’m sorry. I wasn't gonna shoot you,” he apologized, frowning. You didn’t know all that much about firearms, but even you could tell it was an older model as he lowered it. So mysterious…

“You're good, it was my fault,” you deflected calmly, but internally you were trying to parse whether or not you were going to have a panic attack. You slipped off a glove, balling it up in your other hand. “I have to take that, though.”

“You gonna report this to the cops?” he asked skeptically.

“That’s too much work this late,” you admitted, which got an amused huff out of him. Still, Jigen hesitated for a few moments to study the weapon almost longingly, before passing you the gun. It was cold and heavy in your hand as you stood up and went over to where his other belongings were, placing it by his fedora, then sat back down beside him. “Do you need a minute?”

“ I should be asking you that,” he snarked as he laid back down, but something subtle in his tone sounded genuinely concerned. How kind.

“I’ll be alright,” you replied. It wasn't a lie– you had calmed down quite a bit. Though, now would be a pretty good time to look at those x-rays. “Let’s take a quick break,” you said, then turned your attention to the computer screen.

First, you had a quick glance at the two fillings that had already been done, which had no issues (apart from being metal, but personal bias aside). The bone where 20 used to be was still in fairly good condition, for now. The tooth you were concerned about, however, had decayed down to the dentin. In other words, it wasn't too bad now, but would need to be fixed before it got any worse.

“Hey,” you began softly, moving to sit beside him again, “are you ready?”

“...You’re not gonna touch it, are ya?” he asked, looking at you with a frown. You thought you could hear your heart breaking.

“I’ll have to at some point, but I promise I’ll warn you,” you said. “The good news is that you'll only need a filling. But, ” you continued, slipping your glove back on, “I need to get a better look to be sure.” Jigen winced and brought a hand up to rub away the ache. A sympathetic smile crossed your face, wanting nothing more than to take the pain away. “What's wrong?”

“Just–” he sighed, averting his gaze in embarrassment. “...Be gentle, alright?”

“You’re in good hands,” you said in a soft voice. Really, you wanted to promise that you would never hurt him, but you couldn't lie like that. Pain was to be expected, after all. It was an unfortunate part of the process. “Can I take another look?” you asked. Letting his arm fall back on the armrest again, he nodded.

The rest of the exam and cleaning went relatively smoothly. You were right the first time, and there were no other areas of major concern. Plus, no other weapons had been pointed at you! You couldn't recall the last time someone pulled a weapon on you out of fear, only that it had happened before, and you weren't nearly as collected then. 

You two got to chat a little after you'd finished with the treatment, something you didn't really have the time to do with patients during the day. Jigen was pretty sarcastic with a dry sense of humor, you noticed. He was also relatively down-to-earth, if not a little rough around the edges. He had apologized (again) for pointing his gun at you, and you (again) told him that it was alright. He was afraid, and it’s okay to be scared. The bashful look on his face after you said that was far too cute for what it was. The mood was light, a rarity in your workplace (and like whiplash for you, after being held at gunpoint), and you hated the fact that you had to ruin it.

“Now, about that cavity,” you said. “When would you like to come back for a filling?” Jigen went stiff, the easy grin on his face vanishing. You placed a hand over his own, smiling in an attempt to reassure him. “It'll be okay. I'll give you as much time as you need–” your tone of voice then shifted into something more firm, but still gentle– “but it has to be done soon, before the pain gets any worse,” you told Jigen. He glanced at you, uncertain, and you nodded encouragingly.

“...Sometime next week… Same time of day,” he muttered, and you turned away to look through the appointment calendar on the computer. There was an open slot Monday evening, but you weren't in the office on Mondays, and something about Jigen made you want to see him again.

“How about Wednesday?”

“That’ll work,” he shrugged as he got up to retrieve his stuff, slipping his revolver in the back of his pants. He ran a hand through his hair and you caught a glimpse of both eyes before they were gone again, hidden under his fedora.

“I'll see you Wednesday evening, then! Oh, and call if plans change or if the pain gets worse, okay?”

“Mhm. Later, doc.”

–

It was 11PM that Friday night. You were in your pajamas, in bed, surrounded by your plushies. The Great Mission to Rescue Princess Peach! was playing on the VCR, but you weren't really paying attention to Mario and co.’s quest to assemble the three power-ups; instead, you were thinking about Jigen in a less than professional light. 

You didn't have the time to truly admire how hot he was during the appointment– his husky yet placid tone of voice, how good he looked in that suit ( especially when you found him in the waiting room, woah mama ), the way he held his gun, the mystique around him… You’d scold yourself later for fantasizing about a patient, but you were only in your late 20’s; a time when you were probably meant to be out looking for love instead of burying yourself knee-deep in your career. In short, no one would blame you. You hugged your rather goofy-looking Poliwhirl plush close to you, and found yourself wondering what it would be like to be with Jigen.

The way he'd hold you in his arms as he comforted you… The way his voice would deepen as he whispered to you and you alone… The way his beard would tickle under your chin as he kissed you on the cheek… The way he'd beam at you every morning… God , you wanted to replace those unsightly metal fillings so bad… Not to mention, something needed to be done about that missing tooth… His smile was already sweet in its own way… Even though it had its issues, it suited him so well, but being able to make it look just a little bit nicer… But then he wouldn't be the same guy you’ve fallen in love with, so to speak…

Wait.

Are you in love?

You recalled the few times you saw him grin. It was the winning smile– a handsome counterbalance to his resting scowl. A giddy squeal escaped you as you tugged Poliwhirl even further into your chest.

Yeah, you’re in love.

You hardly saw anyone outside of your office, so one little crush was fine as long as you kept it to yourself, right?

That was your rationale as you reached over to shut off the bedside lamp and closed your eyes as Mario, Luigi, and Kibidango set off to find their magic flower.

–

It was 1PM on a Monday afternoon. People your age are probably at work, or if they're unemployed, at a class or just now waking up– not you, of course. You were seated in a leather armchair in the corner of a quaint coffee house in Shibuya, people-watching on your day off. 

You managed to completely repress the unprofessional thoughts and feelings you'd had about Jigen sometime yesterday in mental preparation for the week ahead. You couldn't really afford to be distracted when you spent much of the workday handling sharp instruments in tight spaces that had over a million nerve endings. You took a long sip of your favorite drink, and as you were taking in your surroundings, the bell above the front door jangled to signal a customer walking in. 

You looked towards the door, and nearly shrieked at who you saw.

It was Jigen, alongside a wiry man with sideburns in a red jacket. Your heart picked up and you curled in on yourself slightly, clutching your drink and half-hiding behind it. 

What the hell was he doing here? He couldn't tolerate most of what this place had! 

Despite your best efforts, you found yourself watching as they got in line. The man in the red jacket was certainly bolder than Jigen, judging by his choice of attire. Your eyes lingered on Jigen’s friend as he looked over the menu high up on the wall behind the counter. For some reason, he looked familiar, as if you'd seen him somewhere before. 

You felt the presence of another person as they sat down across from you, and you managed to tear your eyes away from the mystery man in red so you wouldn't seem like a creep. Naturally, you saw who’d sat down in front of you, and almost had another out-of-body experience.

“Didn’t think I’d see you in a place like this , doc,” said Jigen casually. He looked quite comfortable as he lounged in the chair across from you, far more than you were.

“H-Hi,” you stuttered like a schoolgirl around her crush. Well, that description isn't too far off the mark. “Wait, what's that supposed to mean?”

“Y’know… Don’t you guys think sugar’s illegal or some crap like that?”

You snorted. “If that were true, I’d have been locked away years ago,” you admitted. Besides, it was more than just sugar that did the damage, but you really didn't want to go into that on your day off. 

An amused smirk spread across his face, and you felt a tingling in your groin that was highly unwelcome in a public space like this. “You busy today?” he asked. You shook your head as you pressed your thighs together. He leaned his head back just enough for you to catch one of his eyes under the brim of his hat, sharp and watchful.

“What about you?”

“A friend and I are just visiting for a few weeks, so not really,” said Jigen. You tilted your head to one side. “We travel a lot,” he clarified.

“Oh?” you leaned in and placed your drink down, even more interested. “Where all have you been?”

Jigen scoffed out a laugh, and sat straight. “Ah, lemme think… The U.S., all over Europe, parts of Russia,” he counted on his fingers, “China, Japan obviously, Australia, a whole bunch of African and Middle Eastern countries, the Arctic, uhhh… ‘s kinda hard to remember all of ‘em, but there's a few more. We’re comin’ from some town in the Netherlands this time.”

That was already plenty, in your book. “Sheesh, is this for work or something?” you mused, amazed at the infodump.

“Something like that,” he said, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. “My boss is pretty spontaneous.” First, you wondered what sort of job would possibly require him to travel all over the globe. Then, you noticed how much more he was able to talk, when he’d hardly said a word the last time you'd seen him.

“...I-I hate to bring this up, but how's your tooth?” you asked in a lowered voice, a slight frown on your face that you didn't care to suppress. You felt the mood grow sour as soon as you mentioned it.

“Oh– uh,” he muttered, lowering his head, his mouth in a thin line. “‘s about the same. Been popping a Tylenol for it every now and then.”

A closed-lipped smile spread across your face in an attempt to reassure him. “Well, if you need to come in tomorrow instead, let me know,” you told him, and Jigen nodded tersely. Crap. Why'd you have to go and ruin it? Things were perfect as they were– you two were doing something that could pass as getting along! That was what you wanted, wasn't it? You snapped your head downwards, analyzing the markings on the wooden table in front of you in an attempt to avoid staring at Jigen.

“Well, well, well, who's this cutie?” said a new voice. Both of you looked up– it was the man in the red jacket, balancing a few baked sweets and a drink carrier in one hand. He had a rather cheeky grin on his face. “Is this a friend of yours, Jiji?”

You'd like to be more than a friend…

“This is that dentist I saw the other day,” Jigen said, and introduced you to him. You added a small wave.

“Oooh… It's nice to meetcha! The name’s Lupin,” he winked, and you couldn't help but notice the pinch of cockiness in it. “And boy, do I owe you one! Jigen’s been whining about his tooth for ages , it's been a real pain in the ass to listen to him complain when he won't man up and–”

Jigen got up and clapped a hand over Lupin’s mouth. “ Alright, we should probably be heading back now,” he urged. Under the shadow cast by his hat, you caught an embarrassed blush on his face. Lupin tried to argue, but it was muffled, of course. “See ya Wednesday, doc,” Jigen then made a rather grossed-out face and yanked his hand away. As the two made their way out, you heard Jigen complain, ‘did you just lick my hand?’, followed by an energetic nod from Lupin as they left the coffee house. You let yourself smirk fondly at their antics. 

Lupin…

Somehow, that name was familiar, but you couldn't quite remember where you’d heard it from…

The two of them seemed to bounce off each other perfectly.

Was he just a friend, like Jigen said, or something more than that?

Why were you saddened by the idea of him having a partner?

You sighed wistfully and went to finish your drink.

It was cold.

–

It was 8PM on a Wednesday night. People your age should be having dinner at home or going out to the cinema for the latest flick– certainly not still at work. You’d already eaten, but you wouldn't turn down a snack if offered. This was a bittersweet ending to a so-so workday; fillings were monotonous at best, but you'd get to see the man your gremlin brain had already crowned (haha) your favorite patient.

You were sitting behind the reception desk in the waiting room this time, after gathering everything you'd need for the procedure into the same room as last time. Your feet were propped up on the desk– you were all alone, and this was your dental practice, so who cared? You told yourself you'd wipe it down before closing for the night. That chance meeting at the coffee house had completely thrown off your focus for the rest of the week. Really, you'd been barely making it by so far, anticipating this particular appointment. Antsy, you glanced up at the clock on the wall.

8:03.

You were afraid he'd forgotten or chickened out (you probably would too, if you were him), not helped by the annoying dental student in your head rattling off all the potential complications of leaving a cavity untreated. Increased pain and sensitivity, swelling, infection, the need for a root canal, painful abscesses, pulp death, nerve damage if someone's really unlucky, and not to mention losing the tooth as one had waited a little too long. The optimist in you strangled the hypochondriac– he was only three minutes late, he’ll turn up!

You must have stopped paying attention to the outside world, as a rap of knuckles against wood brought you out of your reverie with a flinch that got you to sit properly. Jigen was standing on the other side of the desk, wearing possibly the same get-up you'd seen him in at the coffee house– no, his dress shirt was darker then, and his tie had been black, not blue. Your heart picked up, though not because you'd been startled.

“Didn't mean to scare ya, doc,” he said, slouching a little.

“No, no, it's alright!” you reassured him as you stood up. “It's nice to see you again.” It really, really was, but keep yourself together! You led him back to the exam room, feeling a hint of déjà vu as you sat down on your stool. He pulled off his suit jacket and hat without the self-assuredness you knew he had, before situating himself. You also noticed he was gripping the armrests with a bit more force than last time. “Is that tooth still holding up okay?”

“I guess,” he swallowed anxiously. “Hasn't gotten any better or worse.” You nodded, that part made this less complicated. The anxiety might be a bit of an issue, though. You tried to think of what might calm his nerves; the use of nitrous oxide would need some paperwork and a little bit of extra setup beforehand– your two worst enemies this late in the day. You also weren't sure if it'd be completely safe, taking into account the condition his lungs might be in. You sat there stumped for a few seconds before resting a hand on his shoulder lightly. He flinched under your touch.

“Oop– didn't mean to scare you,” you apologized, returning your hand to your lap. “Have you ever used a weighted blanket before?” you asked, a light whisper to your voice. “You know, to help with anxiety.”

“Huh?” he grunted, not entirely present. “Uh, no, don't think I have…”

“I have something like one; it might calm you down a bit. Wanna try it?”

“Doctor’s orders,” he quipped dryly. You wasted no time in retrieving the drab lead apron from the x-ray room, and as soon as Jigen saw it, he groaned.

“I’m not taking any x-rays tonight, don't worry,” you said as you laid it over his torso. He seemed to process the weight for a few moments, deciding if he liked it or not, before visibly relaxing. “Better?” you asked. The gunman nodded, and you put on a fresh pair of gloves and a mask before turning on the lamp and leaning the chair back. He drew in a shuddering breath as you picked up your trusty mirror and probe. You paused, and set the probe back down. 

“I’m not gonna touch it unless I need to,” you promised, and he parted his lips slightly. “Open just a little wider,” you asked softly, and soon after, you had a much better look. “Thank you.”

You peered into his not-unfamiliar-but-not-quite-familiar mouth, attention locked onto the offending molar. You pushed his cheek aside with your mirror.

“MO on 19,” you said to yourself, then raised your voice to a normal speaking volume. “I need to touch it for just a sec,” you reached for the probe, and prodded at the side of the decayed tooth. A whine of sorts escaped Jigen’s throat, his handsome face contorted in discomfort. “Did that hurt?”

“Ah-hah,” he mumbled around you.

“On a scale of one to ten, about how bad was it?” you asked, and he mulled it over before briefly holding up three fingers. “...TTP+, hypersensitivity with moderate gingivitis,” you muttered, and after a bit more poking around, retracted everything from his mouth. 

“The good news is that this shouldn’t take too long,” you explained as you began to sift through a drawer for the q-tips. You found one, and put a small amount of benzocaine gel on one end. “The swelling should go back down after a few days,” you said, hooking a thumb around the corner of his lips to sneak the q-tip inside, setting it against tender gums. “You're gonna be a little sore tomorrow, and still sensitive for about a week, but it should all clear up after that.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jigen mumbled. While the benzocaine took effect, you drew up the needle out of sight, supplying it with a generous dose of lidocaine. If you had an assistant right now, they'd probably give you a weird look for filling it so much, but you wanted your patients to be comfortable. Especially this one, who you couldn't bear to see scared or in pain anymore.

You plucked the q-tip from his mouth and tossed it in the trash, before situating yourself closer and picking up the syringe. Jigen clenched his teeth with a soft clack and stared wide-eyed at the needle in your hand through the gap in his messy curtain of bangs, and your heart panged. Fortunately, you had an idea.

“Hey,” you snapped your fingers in front of his face, and his eyes darted to the sound. “Don't focus on the needle, focus on me, okay?” you spoke, half-firm and half-sweet. He glanced at the wall to your left, then back at your face, and nodded reluctantly. Poor thing. “Open big– good job,” you then let yourself fall into your patented otaku mode. “Gosh, there's this video I've been meaning to get my hands on next time I go to Shinjuku. It's an anime about a highschool student and an alien girl,” you rambled as the tip of the needle sank in, and you eased the plunger down. Jigen’s gaze never moved away from your face as you strategically nerded out. 

“Such beautiful brown eyes,” you couldn't help but notice.

“...They meet when the aliens come to take over Earth, and the boy beats her in a game of onigokko to save the world,” you explained, watching the barrel as it gradually emptied. “She sticks around afterwards, and there's this cutesy-funny unrequited love between them because the alien girl is super in love with him, but he sees her as a nuisance more than anything else,” you squeezed the last bit of medicine out and set the needle aside, rubbing his cheek to ease the ache you knew would be starting there. You couldn't help but smile at the starstruck look on his face. “Have you ever heard of it?”

“I’m more of a fan of westerns,” Jigen mumbled, caught off-guard by how effective your distraction was.

“That anesthetic is gonna take a minute to kick in, and it'll last for about 2-4 hours after we're finished here,” you explained as you moved the overhead lamp aside and pressed a pedal down with your foot, and the chair was back in an upright position. “I know that was stressful, Jigen, but you did great.” He instinctively reached up for his fedora, but stopped himself and lowered his head bashfully. “Cute,” you thought. 

“So, how have you been?” you asked, making small talk to fill the silence. You’d asked him something along the lines of that recently, but this time, it was a distraction. “Y'know, aside from your teeth.”

“I've been worse,” he said. “Nothing’s really going on, aside from the odd job here and there.”

“What do you do for a living, anyways?” you asked. You were genuinely curious after that rather vague answer back at the coffee house.

“...Things,” he deflected calmly, but it was still suspicious. “Can’t say.” You frowned a little under your mask.

Again, your rational side and your speculative side were in an internal turf war as you were determined to crack this mystery. That gun he pulled on you didn't look government-issued, so he couldn't be a spy or something. He traveled a lot, and had specifically mentioned it was for work. New York City, from what you could recall, had a bit of a problem with the mob, and he was dressed kind of like a… 

Oh, god. Jigen wasn't a criminal, was he? 

You wouldn't turn away a patient because of their record, but you promised yourself that, no matter how touch-starved you became, you wouldn't get so bad as to fall head-over-heels for a crook. But he was so, so, so …

“You're makin’ a buncha faces there, doc,” Jigen murmured, his words half-slurred from the anesthetic. You blinked, and remembered where you were and what you were doing.

“Sorry about that,” you said as you regained your bearings, and occupied yourself with setting up the handpiece. Once it was assembled, you turned towards your patient again. Shit , he was handsome, and all he was doing was sitting there with his legs crossed and his hands resting in his lap. You felt your temperature spike.

It was like your first real crush all over again. 

You swallowed, as if trying to physically repress those memories and the emotions that came with them, while you repositioned the lamp and lowered the chair again, resituating yourself so that his head was practically in your lap. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you tapped his lower lip, and he opened his mouth just wide enough for you to press into the numbed-out gum tissue with your pinky. The inherent warmth and wetness of his mouth really wasn't helping, even through gloves. You tried to harness that shred of focus you miraculously still had.

“Can you feel that?” you questioned. He shook his head, and you massaged a little deeper. “Still nothing?”

“No’ mush,” he mumbled around your finger. Satisfied, you grabbed a gauze pad, placing it against the problem tooth to keep it dry as you worked. You then picked up the handpiece, making sure to hold it out of his sight. Jigen noticed, though. “You don't have to hide it from me, doc. ‘S not like I'm gonna run for the hills screaming,” he said with confidence you were almost certain was false.

“You're not gonna point any weapons at me again, are you?” Jigen snapped his mouth shut at that, looking off to the side and pouting irritatedly. You clearly struck a nerve with that one. “I-It’s an honest question,” you tried to recover.

“I didn't bring my gun this time,” he deadpanned. “Didn't wanna scare you.”

“I really do appreciate that,” you told him with a smile, “and I don't want to scare you, either.” That part had come out a little more sentimental than you thought it would– maybe he wouldn't notice. “Now,” you held up the handpiece, “you're gonna feel some pressure, but aside from that, not a thing. Raise your hand if it does hurt, or if you just need a break,” you said softly. Jigen looked up at you, uncertainty clear in the eye you had the privilege of seeing. “I'm right here to help, okay?”

It was something you said to all your anxious patients (which was a good eighty percent of them, since your practice was known for being good with dental anxiety), but this time, it felt different. You ignored how it felt, naturally; fillings weren't hard to do– you either performed or supervised one every day– but they did require that you weren't distracted by your feelings. 

“Do you need a bit more time?” you asked. He hesitated for another moment before his jaw fell open. You didn't have the best angle to work with. “Tilt your head towards me,” you urged him gently, and you switched on the drill. The high-pitched whir of the handpiece filled the room as you started removing the decay. He'd wrenched his eyes shut tight in anticipation for a shock of agony that never came, and you chuckled as you caught an eye fluttering open in your peripheral vision. “See? No pain.” Jigen watched you for a few moments with something like trust in his gaze, before closing his eyes again.

The rougher, more surly patients were easily your favorites to see. They always seemed to want to stay in pain instead of getting help, which broke your heart no matter who it was. But no matter how much they fought back, saying they could deal with it, they were always much happier after you'd treated whatever was bothering them, and far more thankful than others.

“Hard on the outside, soft on the inside,” you thought. They just needed a little bit of help, like everyone else.

At some point, you'd started to hum a peppy tune you heard somewhere, but couldn't quite remember where, focused but bored. 

“ Da-da-da-da-daisuki na hito wa, ” you heard yourself sing as you smoothed the newly-placed filling. “ Himitsu de daisuki ga hito yo…” the following lyrics evaded you, and was getting to be out of your comfortable range, so you went back to humming as you set the handpiece back where it belonged.

“Still with me?” you half-teased, removing the gauze pad and throwing it out. Jigen groaned tiredly, but you knew he hadn't fallen asleep. “Bite down carefully– good, good – it might be hard to tell since you're still numb, but how does that feel?”

“As good as new,” he muttered, a hint of awe in his voice. “Thanks, doc.”

“No problem. You can eat and drink after this, but wait at least a day before you do any smoking,” you explained, turning off the lamp and letting him sit up. He seemed a little ticked off at that last part, but nodded anyway. “Oh– and try not to grind your teeth for a week or so, so it has a better opportunity to heal.” 

Jigen said something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch. 

“...Come again?”

He huffed, lowering his head. “I said you have a pretty singing voice,” mumbled Jigen, and your heart fluttered.

“Oh! Thanks,” you felt your face flush as you discarded your gloves and removed the weighted apron, folding it over your arm. You kept your mask on for obvious reasons. Jigen grunted as he stood up, wobbling a little before finding his balance. “You might be a little dizzy, so be careful on your way out.”

“Yeah, no kiddin’,” he snarked, putting his jacket and fedora back on. You waved as he walked out of the exam room, and as soon as he was gone, you pulled off your mask and curled in on yourself, clutching the lead apron close to you. 

Would his voice get low and rough like that in the morning after a full night’s sleep? 

This wasn’t good. You’d spent way too much energy just trying to stay focused this time. You'd have to stop seeing him, because there's no way you'd be able to concentrate long enough to get anything done around him…

Wait, see him again?

You speedwalked to the waiting room and caught up to Jigen, thankful he’d taken his time. 

“Y-You’ll come back in a week, right?” you sputtered.

He turned to you in the middle of the waiting room, frowning. “How come?”

“Just a check-up on the filling, it won't take long. You'll also be paying for the treatment then.”

Jigen looked at you for a moment. You felt exposed under his gaze, something you haven't felt in a long while. An adorable lopsided smile then crept onto his face. “Sure thing, doc,” he winked, fucking winked , and you swore you could feel your synapses short-circuiting as he left. You didn't even hear the dull thud of the lead apron as it slipped off your arm and hit the floor. You instead felt your legs weaken beneath you, and you leaned over the desk for support, hammering it with your fist.

–

It was 9PM, two Fridays later. You had been berating yourself relentlessly the whole week over this stupid crush. Jigen never turned up, disappointing both the romantic and the professional in you. You had asked your coworkers a little too eagerly if maybe he showed up while you weren't there, or if he called and said he couldn't make it after all– nothing. 

You figured it was for the best as you stood in the bathroom in your fuzzy robe and brushed your teeth, getting ready to lay in bed for three hours before you would actually fall asleep. You'd probably embarrass yourself in front of him if he had turned up. The only good thing that came out of this week was you finally getting that volume of Urusei Yatsura on VHS– something hopefully funny to drown your yearning in. In the unwise words of the most hopeless of romantics: you could deal with it another day.

Something hit your bedroom window, but you didn't pay it any mind. It was probably a bird. Or that stray cat that wandered around the apartment complex. Or a really big raindrop. Rain would be nice…

Another knock. You furrowed your brow in annoyance, glaring at the sound.

In the darkness of night, you saw someone outside your window.

You went completely stiff as a pit of dread opened in your gut, threatening to swallow you whole. You nearly squeaked at the sensation, but stayed deathly still and silent, staring with impossibly wide eyes like an animal of prey.

The silhouette disappeared. 

You dared to move, bare feet soundless as you moved into the bedroom with caution. Your toothbrush was held tight between your teeth as you looked around for some kind of weapon. A Keroppi plush wouldn’t stop a possibly armed intruder. Your proplica magical girl wands were too expensive to smash someone upside the head with. There was no way you were picking up your desk chair that easily. Your gaze shot to the Super Famicom on the floor in front of your TV, and you bent down to unplug one of the controllers. The controller itself wouldn't do much, but maybe you could strangle them with the cord long enough to call for help.

There was a dull click and a gust of wind, and you looked up to see someone you weren't expecting.

A shady-looking man in all black and wearing a fedora was leaning in your now-open window, hands behind his head with his legs crossed. You couldn't help but watch his jaw work as he chewed on a piece of bubblegum. Same resting scowl, same hint of tummy, same beard… you dropped the controller with a soft thud, and let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“What’s up, doc?” Jigen said nonchalantly, and you let out a rather unflattering noise that was somewhere between the key of “what the fuck are you doing” flat and “oh my god, I missed you” minor. Regaining some of your senses, you took your toothbrush out of your mouth.

“H-How'd you know where I live?”

“I have connections,” he said vaguely, blowing a small bubble before closing his mouth around it. Your criminal hypothesis seemed a bit more rational now as you glared at him skeptically. He seemed to take notice of your wariness. “Don't worry, sweetheart, no one's gonna hurt you,” he said, then spat out his gum into the bushes below and hopped into your room. ‘Sweetheart’ ...

“As long as you're around, that is,” you thought as you went into the bathroom and spat out a mouthful of foam in the sink, setting your toothbrush aside. You could finish later. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m good at keeping appointments,” he replied smoothly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You do realize you never made one, right?” you retorted as you approached him. “You'd be an hour late, anyways.”

“Your office was closed, so I came here instead,” Jigen said with the cutest, most handsome, most diabolical shit-eating grin you’ve seen in a long time. That wasn't fair. You couldn't possibly stay mad at him. His face fell, just like you hoped it wouldn't. “This a bad time?”

“No, not really,” you said truthfully, thankful for some form of company more than anything else. Your life was what most people would call boring– either sitting alone at home or out on the prowl for whatever merch fueled your geeky fire whenever you weren't working. At least having your apartment broken into added some variety to it. Jigen’s life was way more interesting than yours…

“Nice place you got here,” he observed. “It's… cute.”

“Thanks,” you muttered. You robotically walked past him to close the window before that stray cat got any bright ideas. If you didn't think you were going to spontaneously combust, you would have laughed at the sight of this standoffish gangster(?) in a room full of manga and games and other cute, soft things. Not that he wasn't cute or soft in his own way.

“...So, are ya gonna look at my tooth, or do I hafta-”

Oh, right. 

“No, yeah, I can,” you blurted out. Jigen watched with trained eyes as you walked back into the bathroom and washed your hands before opening the medicine cabinet and pulling out a pair of gloves. As a trained medical professional, you understood sanitation– you kept some gloves handy for cleaning around your apartment or for caring for any wounds you might receive, as well as the secret third use... 

You sat down on your bed and beckoned him closer, both gloves balled up in one hand. You absolutely would not do this under normal conditions, but your romantic side had risen from the ashes to overthrow your professional side. 

“You're lucky you're good-looking, y'know,” you said thoughtlessly, realizing what spilled out of your stupid mouth too late. There was a pause, and Jigen chuckled as he kicked off his boots and set his hat down on your desk before sitting down in front of you. You felt your heart quicken. He glanced off to the side and curiously picked up your Sailor Mars plush, looking her over as though he was seeing her for the first time. 

“Usually I only hear that directed to Lupin– you remember him, right?”

He’s touching one of your plushies– “Yeah, what about him?”

“Well, he's bold, charming, and highly intelligent, but I’d be lying if I didn’t mention how much of a dumbass he can be when he thinks with his dick,” he ranted, setting little Mars down beside you.

You couldn't help but laugh at his bluntness. “Sounds like a handful.”

“He can be,” Jigen agreed, “so I've gotta keep him in line.” 

Someone should really keep you in line– you had already lost the capacity to keep yourself under control around the gunman, and trying to hold yourself together wouldn't last much longer. 

“Uh,” you said very intelligently as you stared at Jigen, trying to think of the best way to do this. If he had his head in your lap, that'd be a bit more like what you were used to, but you wouldn't get that great of a view without a flashlight or a pair of surgical loupes… What if he sat in front of you, between your legs? You shifted so that your knees were still bent, but your legs were open. “C-Come a little closer,” you instructed as you pulled on your gloves. Jigen scooched between your thighs, and you swallowed nervously. The fact that the guy you'd been fantasizing about on and off for two weeks was in your room and on your bed and touched one of your plushies hit you all at once, and the abnormality of it all made you hesitate. 

You heard Jigen say your name, and you blinked at him. “You okay?” 

You didn't answer– you weren't really sure.

“Can I take a look?” you asked softly after recalibrating the neurons in your brain, and he opened his mouth. 

Like a switch flipping on, you instantly went into focus mode. 

Your handiwork was fully intact; that was good. One of your hands came to rest on his chin, and you gently coaxed his mouth open further. The swelling around the former problem tooth had gone down from a furious, swollen crimson to a mildly irritated pinkish-red tone, just as you thought it would. You pressed down on the filling with the pad of your thumb, assessing its shape and structural integrity through latex. 

You suddenly felt too hot in your fuzzy robe. Why did mouths have to be so wet and warm?

“It's not bothering you, is it?”

“Nah,” he mumbled around your fingers. You couldn't help but be drawn to the empty space right beside the tooth. Implant failure rates for a smoker were twice as high as a non-smoker’s, and you didn't want to inflict any more pain on him, but letting it stay as-is had its own risks. You brought your pinky finger to gently massage the healed-over socket, and Jigen made a face as though he were in pain. You took your hands out.

“Did that hurt?” you asked. He shook his head, his mouth snapping shut. Oh, to be able to kiss those lips… “When did you lose that one, again?”

“A year ago, maybe,” he said. “Took a punch to the face.”

A punch? Who would ever hit such a sweet guy?

You recoiled at the thought, and without thinking, lifted your hand to caress his cheek. The gunman jolted, looking back at you with wide eyes. “That sounds like it hurt,” you said, your tone drenched in genuine sympathy. Jigen let out a tiny huff, his expression softening at the sound of your voice.

“Shit happens,” he shrugged, leaning into your touch like a cat. “Do I hafta do something about it?”

“Not right away,” you replied. “Come into the clinic when you're ready, and I'll be there, okay?” 

He nodded, and pulled away to sit at the edge of your bed. Missing the warmth of his cheek, you stiffly got to your feet to toss your gloves in the trash. You had started to tremble, but your adrenaline high from when Jigen basically broke into your apartment was already over. What would you two get up to now, if anything? Would he leave? Would he stay? You swallowed down a wave of nausea and made the walk of shame back to him.

“Well, everything looks good to me,” you said, sounding way more put-together than you felt. “Any other questions or concerns?” 

There was a moment of silence before a lazy grin snuck its way onto Jigen’s face.

“Did’ja get your hands on that video?”

–

It was 10PM that Friday night. You were in bed, surrounded by your plushies, finally watching Urusei Yatsura . A discarded black suit jacket and necktie hung over the back of your desk chair in the corner. Jigen was snuggled up behind you, your legs tangled in his, holding you with one arm as he watched the screen from over your shoulder. He smelled like cigarettes and a hint of liquor– a familiar, strangely calming scent. Literally, it was a dream come true.

Should you…? 

No, you shouldn't go for it. You two were in two completely different worlds. You managed to convince yourself a while ago that a romance between you two would never work out (not to mention the conflict of interest that would inevitably spring up if you kept seeing him as a patient). This was just a fluke. You were beyond flattered, though– he trusted you enough to get this comfortable around you. Maybe he cuddled like this all the time, not too in-your-face, but still supportive, and so, so gentle. Your increasingly irrational and sleep-deprived mind wanted to drop everything in your unexciting life and lay here with Jigen, forever.

This has to be a dream. You were pretty exhausted, anyway. You probably fell asleep already.

“Darling,” you heard Lum whine from the television.

It would be nice to have someone to call that, wouldn't it? 

You looked over your shoulder at Jigen, who was still awake, but his breathing was slow enough to where you thought he might’ve been asleep. Everything was too lucid, too clear, and made just enough sense to confirm that it wasn't a dream.

Why was he the first person that came to mind?

“Jigen,”

“Hmm?”

No, you couldn't.

“N-Nevermind,” you said, gaze snapping back to the TV screen. It was way too risky. Jigen sat up, and you immediately missed his body warmth, suppressing a whine.

“Should I go?”

“No, don't,” you replied too quickly, scrambling upright. He watched you with an unreadable expression as you blindly fumbled for the remote and hit pause. “I…” 

Say it. What did you have to lose, a single patient? 

Oh, god, what if you were gonna ruin the mood with this, and he just got up and left? 

“I…” 

At least you'd have something to pass the time with. 

Say it. You're not a little kid, for whom romance is just one more thing you have to wait and grow up for.

“I-I like you,” you blurted out, “a… a lot. I've been thinking about you constantly since the night we met. You– you're–” Your limbs felt weak, and your breath hitched. He lowered his head, deep in thought. “I don't know what it is about you…” It was everything about him. The slight rasp in his voice, the way his laugh lines seemed to complete his face, his soft-heartedness despite his grumpy exterior, and even some of the less savory parts you've already had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with. “But I do. I really, really do, Jigen,” you confessed. You felt as though your heart was being weighed down by a thousand tons worth of guilt, instead of finally feeling relief. 

You shouldn't be doing this. 

“This… th-this is really weird, I-I’m sorry for being such a creep,” you choked out. The silence following the spilling of your heart was unnervingly long, and made you want to cry. He moved a hand to rest on your shoulder and rubbed it gently. That single gesture broke you, and you drew in a shuddering breath as your eyes began to water. You let go of the remote and crawled closer to Jigen, who pulled you into a hug without hesitation. He could be making any number of sarcastic remarks right about now, but didn't, only rubbing your back as he held you. You rested your head on his chest as you cried, which rose and fell as he took slow, deep, even breaths. You followed his example as best as you could, sniffling.

“You're really not, y'know,” he whispered, his voice low with a hint of sugar. You turned your head to look up at him, a gentle expression softening his face. You tried to prepare yourself for whatever feelings he had, but it was like pulling teeth.

You cracked a smile at how inaccurate the phrase was. Extractions weren't that difficult for the dentist or the patient. The hardest part was the lidocaine injection beforehand. Then, a few twists and a good tug, and it would all be over. Only the initial injection would hurt, and even then, it'd just be a little pinch. A good distraction might even make it completely painless.

The best distraction being a long hug from a good-looking guy with a smooth voice, obviously.

“I'm more of a creep than you are by showin’ up at your apartment.”

You smiled sadly. There's the sarcasm.

“A creep would–” you sniffled – “be taking advantage of me,” you retorted.

Tilting his head down, Jigen hummed in acknowledgement, and all of a sudden your noses were touching. “‘S true, but I kinda already did,” he said with a frown. “Lupin was the one who told me to come see you. Probably didn't wanna risk hearin’ me bitch and moan about my tooth again,” Jigen then paused for what felt like hours. You blinked, and a tear rolled down your cheek. Jigen turned his head away from you. “I came so he would quit nagging,” he chuffed, barely above a whisper.

“How come you stayed?”

“...You were lonely.”

You let out a sad ghost of a laugh, and wiped the tear stains from your face. “That’s a lie, and you know it,” you retorted in a wavering voice. Even in the dim light, you saw his cheeks flush, and he reached up to tip down a hat that wasn't on his head. You couldn't help but laugh fondly. Realizing his mistake after you did, he simply huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. The smile lingered on your face as you shifted to sit beside him.

“So,” you started softly, “what does this mean?” Jigen only shrugged. “I was hoping you'd tell me,” you sighed. 

“Whatever you want it to mean,” he replied rather thoughtfully. There was an affectionate quality to his tone you hadn’t heard yet that made you want to melt.

Did he just?

There's no way you could be with him.

This was a stupid idea.

“God, I…” You felt his gaze as he looked at you expectantly through the gap in his bangs. Your smile fell. “There’s, um– well–”

“What, you got a partner already?” he asked dejectedly.

“No,” you admitted. “Like you said, I'm lonely.” I won't be able to see you anymore , you wanted to add.

Jigen said nothing after that, only laid back down and pressed ‘play’. You blinked at him in disbelief.

He was staying?

He really didn't have to.

Yet, you couldn’t find it in you to open your mouth so you could tell him so.

Instead, you moved to settle against him. His scent filled your senses once more, and you let your body loosen somewhat. After a few moments, he wrapped an arm around you, and nothing else mattered.

–

You opened your eyes sometime Saturday morning without even realizing you'd fallen asleep. You first noticed that your bed sheets smelled faintly of tobacco. They would need to be washed if you ever wanted to get the scent out. Plushie Mars was in your grasp, the TV had been turned off, and the cassette put back in its box beside the VCR. There was no black suit jacket or necktie draped over your desk chair. 

Jigen was gone. There was nothing to remember him by except for a duvet that smelled like him and a bittersweet memory.

That, along with a generous bundle of yen bills on your nightstand, and a note written on a scrap of paper. You reached out from under the covers to read it. The note was in English, and the man who wrote it had surprisingly neat handwriting. You couldn't help but smile at it.

“This should cover what I owe.

See you around, doc.

- Jigen”