Archive of Our Own

Everybody was making a lot of fuss over Ilya considering that he still had all his teeth in his skull. Sure, one of his front teeth had a sizable chunk missing, but a high stick to the mouth could’ve been a lot worse than a split lip and a broken tooth. The team trainer had let him continue playing at Ilya’s insistence with the understanding that Ilya would go to an emergency dentist after the game, in case the root was fractured or something. A small, belligerent part of Ilya wanted to argue that he wasn’t a plant but truthfully, it really fucking hurt, his mouth throbbing by the end of the game and each breath catching on the injured tooth with a nasty zing. 

They’d won against Montreal, at least, but that meant he was in Montreal and not near the geriatric team dentist he was used to seeing in Boston. The trainer assured him they had connected with a respectable dentist and pushed him into an Uber with a cold pack that Ilya drooled onto while staring out the window. By the time they pulled into the nondescript parking lot, it was just after ten p.m. and as Ilya swung open the glass door, he thought wistfully that he should be entering a club and not a fucking dentist’s office.

A pretty girl in scrubs with red hair and wide blue eyes looked up from the front desk. Things were looking up. 

“Mr. Rozanov?” she said, grabbing a clipboard in front of her.

“Ilya is fine,” he said smoothly with a grin, feeling the skin on his lip crack open, a bead of blood dropping to his chin. Not his finest flirting attempt.

“I’m Rose, I’ll get you started here. Follow me, Dr. Hollander wanted some X-rays prior.”

Ilya trotted after her obediently, answering questions about the injury on the way. He held back a wince as he closed his mouth around the bite block as Rose took the X-rays.

“Sorry,” she said apologetically. “I know that can’t be comfortable. I’ll get these ready and the doctor should be in shortly.” She handed him some paper towels and a new ice pack on her way out. He looked in the mirror and grimaced; half of his face was covered in patches of dried blood despite having cleaned up in the locker room earlier. He bared his teeth and frowned at the chipped tooth. It was not cute. No wonder Rose hadn’t flirted back. 

He collapsed on the dental chair, closing his eyes against the harsh fluorescent lights. Post-game adrenaline was starting to wear off and he had never liked the dentist. Honestly, who did? He opened his eyes when a soft knock came from the door, the sound of squeaky wheels drifting closer as the dentist pushed himself on a rolling stool to land next to Ilya’s chair. Rose followed him, grabbing some supplies from the cabinets lining the room. 

“Shane Hollander,” the man said, sticking out his hand. Ilya looked at him for the first time and sat up abruptly, knocking his head into the overhead exam light. Rose snorted and covered her mouth, attempting to school her face into something more professional. 

“Ilya,” he returned when he had recovered from his head injury, shaking Shane’s hand and wishing he didn’t look so, so stupid with half a front tooth. 

The man was beautiful. Dark hair, syrupy brown eyes and a heavy sprinkling of freckles across his nose that Ilya felt had been unfairly planted for him as a trap. He bit back a groan as Shane reached into his scrub pocket and slid on a pair of black-framed glasses as he pulled up the X-rays on the computer in front of him.

“We’ll take a look in a second but I think the tooth is likely salvageable,” Shane said, propping his chin in his palm, forearms flexing. Why was he so young and why did he fill out his scrubs like that?

“Great,” Ilya blurted. Shane would surely be charmed by his winning conversational skills. Shane furrowed his brow slightly at the screen and Ilya repressed the urge to smooth away the lines with his thumb. 

Shane nodded to the X-rays and clapped his hands once. “Alright, let’s take a look.”

Ilya nodded jerkily as he remembered that this man would soon have his fingers in his mouth. He had nothing respectable to say about the thought. Rose sat down next to Shane, arranging tools on a tray while Shane snapped on blue gloves. Ilya bit his lip, forgetting his injury. The whole naughty nurse thing had never really done it for him but it turned out that a naughty dentist situation really, really did. 

Rose handed him the ugliest pair of protective glasses he had ever seen— this was so unfair, Shane would never be able to tell he was hot— and Shane reclined the dental chair back with a remote.

“Good game,” Shane said lightly as the bed continued its painfully slow climb down.

Ilya turned his head towards him. “You watched?” God, he must look dumb.

“Yes. Until I was rudely interrupted during the second period about a dental emergency.”

“Sorry,” Ilya muttered. 

“It’s okay. It’s sort of my job and at least mine doesn’t involve taking sticks to the face.” Was that a deliberate innuendo? No, surely not. Shane leaned over him, tapping his jaw lightly with his gloved index finger. “Open your mouth for me,” he murmured.

Ilya was not going to survive the night. 

Shane and Rose worked over him, talking quietly to each other over the noise of the instruments, and Ilya shut his eyes and tried to think unsexy thoughts. 

Shane finally rolled back, swinging the exam light away from Ilya and removing his gloves with a snap, tossing them into the garbage can on the other side of the room.

“You’ll need a crown but otherwise I think you’ll live. There’s some dentin exposed, we can seal it tonight to make you comfortable and have you come back in the morning for a temporary crown. Your regular dentist can handle the permanent one when you get home.”

“Not tonight?”

“No. It’s not an emergency and it will take at least another hour. Let’s all get some sleep first.” He tapped out some notes on the keyboard.

Ilya flicked a glance at Shane’s bare hands. “Your wife doesn’t mind you working late?”

Behind him, Rose wheezed. He had forgotten she was there.

Shane stopped typing briefly, keeping his eyes on the screen. “No wife.”

Ilya hummed. “Husband?” he asked casually.

Shane’s hands stumbled over the keys, the tips of his ears going pink. “Tonight’s procedure will be relatively quick. I’ll go get the rest of the supplies.”

He left the room while Rose tidied up the tray. “He’s gay,” she whispered. “And very single.”

“Rose,” Shane called from the hall, an edge of warning in his voice.

“Coming!” she said brightly, gathering up a pile of trash. 

Ilya rested his head back down on the chair. Interesting.

Ilya looked rough when Shane had walked in, his upper lip split and swollen with a jagged, severely fractured front tooth underneath. Unfortunately, this did not make him less attractive. His first thought after settling in front of Ilya’s chair, scrolling through his x-rays was that the man needed a crown. The following thoughts were decidedly less professional. 

Still, he would spend maybe a couple of hours total with Ilya, most of those with his hands in his mouth (help) while Shane focused. One reason he liked dentistry was that there was little need for awkward small talk. He put a mask on and promptly shut up his patients until he was done working. 

He did the same with Ilya, starting with a general oral exam. Hockey players could fuck up their mouths in extraordinary ways. His fingers paused during his survey of Ilya’s soft palate, spotting small clusters of dark purple petechiae across the surface. Rose kicked his ankle and he knew she saw it too. 

He glared at her silently. Traumatic petechiae were an irrelevant diagnostic finding for Ilya’s injury. Bruising to the soft palate could come from lots of things: a recent infection, even coughing hard. 

It could also be caused by enthusiastic blow jobs.

Which wouldn’t be the case for Ilya, obviously. Shane was a hockey fan, he saw the photos floating around social media of Ilya with a rotating cast of beautiful women. Though that didn’t necessarily exclude men, he supposed. 

He blushed under his surgical mask. There is nothing sexy about a fractured maxillary central incisor, he repeated to himself over and over. 

There was probably a perfectly innocent reason why Ilya had asked him if he had a husband. He couldn’t currently think of any of those reasons while Ilya was actively drooling onto his hand while he carefully applied dental composite onto the injured tooth. But he was sure he would come up with something later, once Ilya’s lips weren’t circling his wrist. 

Work done, he scooted back and let Rose wipe off Ilya’s face slightly while he took off his mask and gloves. 

“Okay. That should feel a lot better, help you sleep at least.”

Ilya grabbed at the hand mirror and cringed. “Ugh. I’ll have to look terrible until tomorrow morning, I guess.”

“You don’t look terrible,” Shane said distractedly, helping Rose put equipment away.

Ilya looked up from the mirror, perking up. “No?”

Shane realized his mistake three seconds too late. “I mean. Your tooth looks terrible.”

“And the rest of me?” Ilya said innocently. Rose stood in the corner, looking like she might spontaneously combust with glee. 

Shane blinked at him. “I’ll see you in the morning. Eight am.” He hurried out of the room and escaped into his office, staying put until Rose leaned against the door frame. 

“Okay, he’s gone. You can stop hiding.”

“I’m not hiding,” Shane muttered, turning off his computer.

“He likes you, Shane. And he’s hot!”

Shane stood, grabbing his jacket from the wall. “Rose. Be serious. Even if he was interested, which he’s not, he’s my patient. It doesn’t matter.”

Rose quickened her strides to keep up with him, turning off the office lights as she went. “He obviously was flirting with you and he’s not your patient after tomorrow, right? You’re discharging him back to his normal dentist.”

Shane allowed himself to roll the thought around in his brain on the way to his car before rejecting it all over again.

“Yeah, no. I’ll see you in the morning, Rose.”

Shane drove out of the parking lot, thinking that seeing Ilya again in eight hours was both much too soon and much too far away. 

Ilya bounced his knee in the waiting room. Last night hadn’t been so bad but he was not a stranger to invasive dental work or the harpoon sized needles they used for local anesthesia. 

“Ready?” Rose asked, holding open the door for him.

Ilya let out a long breath. “Yeah, okay.”

Rose led him to the same exam room, gesturing for him to sit down. He did, tapping one foot against the side.

“Everything feel okay this morning?”

Ilya ran the tip of his tongue experimentally over the edge of his front tooth. “Yes. Whatever he did yesterday helped a lot. No pain.”

Rose made a noise of acknowledgment, pulling a few tools out of nearby drawers. She glanced at his fidgeting foot.

“Nervous?”

Ilya stilled his foot. “No.” Rose raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe. I’m not so good with needles. And I had a few bad experiences at the dentist as a kid.” The admission was embarrassing but Rose simply nodded sympathetically. 

“We use nitrous pretty often. Laughing gas. The numbing injection is better for pain control, you’d still need that, but Dr. Hollander would be fine if you wanted to use it for nerves. Have you used it before?”

“I don’t think so.” Rose set a packaged needle on the tray in front of her the approximate length of his forearm. He paled. “Maybe would be good.”

She smiled at him. “I’ll let him know. We’ll be back in a minute.”

He settled back into the exam chair, resuming tapping his foot. He heard Shane and Rose hiss at each other in what sounded like an argument before they walked in, Shane clearing his throat.

“Hey Ilya, good morning. Rose said you were having some anxiety?”

“Oh. Um, anxiety is maybe a bit of a strong word.”

Shane shrugged. “It’s normal. The nitrous is reasonable if you want to try. We could start it before the local anesthesia so you’re more relaxed for the needle. No more needles after that, I promise.”

Oh good, so he was just a sexy, kind, patient dentist. Not a big deal.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s try.”

Rose and Shane hovered over him, Shane eventually fitting a plastic mask over his nose.

“This is just oxygen to start. Breathe normally through your nose and we’ll wait for it to kick in before we start. Let me know if you’re feeling strange.”

Ilya nodded faintly, staring at the ceiling as Shane and Rose talked softly next to him. Shane must have started the drugs at some point because he felt himself start to relax, his limbs going loose and floaty.

“How are you feeling?” Shane asked a moment (or maybe hours?) later. “More relaxed?”

“Your freckles are very pretty,” he said dumbly. Distantly, he heard Rosie snicker while Shane shushed her.

Shane coughed hoarsely. “Um. Any tingling?”

“My hands are fizzy.”

Shane adjusted a knob. “Right. That seems like a good amount. Keep breathing through your nose, we’ll get started. Numbing first. Open for me.”

Ilya giggled, cutting off abruptly as Shane’s deft hands poked around his mouth. He focused very hard on the thought that it was not socially acceptable to lick your dentist’s hand, particularly when they were holding the world’s largest needle. He flinched as the needle entered his gums but at least it felt like he was resting on a bed of clouds.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Ilya said dreamily, his eyelids suddenly very heavy. He let them flutter shut.

“Great. We’ll wait a few minutes for you to be numb.”

“Okie dokie, artichokey.”

Shane rolled his stool to the computer and tapped quietly at the keyboard. Rose scooted closer to Ilya.

“So Ilya, you have a dentist at home, right? In Boston?”

Ilya opened his eyes. “Yes. Dr. Becker. He is very old. Like dinosaur. Not young and hot, like Dr. Hollander.”

She grinned. “Good. I’ll fax him information about what we did here today. Since, you know, Dr. Hollander won’t be your dentist anymore.”

“Rose,” Shane warned, still typing.

“What?” Rose said airily. “I’m just confirming his primary dental provider.”

Ilya’s cloudy head slowly did the math. Shane hot. Shane like men. Shane single. Shane no longer my dentist after today.

“You are very clever, Rose,” Ilya said, clumsily patting her arm. “So smart. Don’t you think Rose is smart, Dr. Hollander?”

“Yes. That’s why I keep her around. Despite her meddling.” 

“You are smart too. A dentist. A doctor. Of teeth.”

“Um. I mean, I graduated from dental school. As is standard. For a dentist.”

“And you smell good,” Ilya said with a contented sigh. 

“Maybe– maybe you should just be quiet and relax, Ilya,” Shane stuttered.

“No, keep talking,” Rose said eagerly. 

“I was flirting with you yesterday, if it wasn’t clear,” Ilya said sleepily. “I asked about husband because I wanted to see if you like men. I am also very clever, see?”

“Right,” Shane said slowly. “Let’s check and see how we’re doing with the numbing.” He wheeled back over to Ilya, replacing his mask and choosing an instrument.

“I liked it better without the mask,” Ilya said mournfully. “You have a nice mouth.”

Shane ignored him, poking at his gum. “Do you feel sharp or pressure?”

“Pressure.”

“Good,” Shane said, sounding relieved. “Let’s start. Raise your hand if you need a break. The gas should keep you pretty comfortable though.”

Ilya felt them work but it seemed very far away. He had no idea how much time had passed when he raised his hand.

Shane withdrew his hands. “Okay? Something painful?” 

Ilya shook his head. “No.” He took a breath as if to say something and hesitated. “I forget.”

Shane’s eyes crinkled above his mask. “Okay.“ He leaned back in.

“Oh!” 

Shane pulled back again, waiting.

“You have very nice hands.” He beamed at Shane, attempting to arrange his numb upper lip into a smile

Shane took a measured inhale. “Alright. Open again.” Ilya obeyed. Shane leaned in slightly closer and Rose adjusted the light above them. “A little more.” Ilya complied, opening wider. “Good,” Shane said under his breath.

Ilya made a strangled noise. What in the name of praise kinks was happening here? Rose put on some music and Ilya let his attention drift to the sounds piped in through the speakers, time moving in a strange blur behind his closed lids.

Rose dabbed his mouth with a paper towel and he blinked open his eyes. Shane had pushed his stool away from him, removing his gloves and mask. He glanced at Ilya.

“We’re all done. You did great.”

Ilya preened and reached for the mask still covering his nose.

“Whoa,” Shane said, putting a hand on Ilya’s arm. Ilya stared at it until he hesitantly drew it away. “The nitrous is off but you need oxygen for a few more minutes. Leave it on.”

Ilya's head was gradually starting to clear and he was pleased when he successfully pushed down the yes, sir rapidly bubbling to the surface of his tongue. Shane handed him a business card.

“The crown should last at least a few weeks but make sure you have something set up with your team dentist when you get back. Here’s our contact info if you need it. I think you’ll be fine though.”

Ilya flipped the card over in his hands. “Contact info for office? Or for you?”

Shane shifted on the stool. “Well. The office. Obviously.”

Ilya reached out an open hand. “Pen.”

Shane looked at him blankly.

Ilya closed and opened his fist several times. “Pen, Hollander.”

Rose stepped around Shane and offered him a pen. He accepted it gratefully.

“Thank you, Rose,” Ilya cooed, pulling his knee up as an impromptu writing surface and scribbling on it with Rose’s pen. He squinted at it and then held it out to Shane.

Shane looked at it warily. “I understand the drugs haven’t fully left your system yet but I don’t need my own business card.”

Ilya huffed. “Oh my god. You are so smart about teeth and so dumb about everything else.” Rose stepped behind him and gently peeled the mask off his nose. He rubbed at the imprint with the heel of his palm.

Shane remained unmoved. “Thanks?”

“I’m trying to give you my phone number.”

Shane blinked at him. “I have it in your patient chart already.”

Ilya pressed his palms into his eyes. “Rose. Help.”

“Got it,” she said easily, plucking the card from his hand. “Come with me, I’ll get you the discharge information sheet.” She kicked Shane’s stool and he wobbled. “Say goodbye to Ilya, Dr. Hollander,” she said sternly. 

Shane adjusted his glasses unnecessarily. “Nice to meet you, Ilya. Best of luck.” He pushed off the stool and walked out of the room.

Ilya sat up, dangling his legs off the side of the chair. Rose put a hand on his shoulder. 

“You feel okay? Dizzy at all?”

“No.” He scratched his head. “Fuck, I said some weird stuff, huh?”

She squeezed his shoulder once. “Yes. It was the best.” She stood. “Let’s go.”

Ilya followed her to the front door, accepting the paper she shoved into his hand. He hovered there. 

“Well. Thanks for putting up with… that.”

“Are you kidding?” She opened the door for him. “Best work day ever. Look, I’ll give him your card. He’s stubborn.”

“Oh really?” Ilya said dryly, stepping out to meet his Uber.

“Between the two of us, we can crack him, I think,” Rose said through a grin.

Ilya had at least three innuendos about cracking Dr. Hollander and kept them all to himself. The laughing gas must really be out of his system if he was able to contain his inside thoughts again. He blew Rose a warped kiss – his top lip was still numb – and closed the car door.

Shane kept his forehead on his desk until he heard footsteps approach his office. He didn’t look up.

“What, Rose?” He heard her move to the chair on the opposite side of his desk.

“Good job for surviving that. I wasn’t convinced he was going to successfully make it out of here with a crown.”

“I’m very good at my job,” Shane said to his floor.

“Yeah, I know. Listen, he’s not your patient anymore. You will never do another procedure on him. Take his stupid number.”

Shane lifted his head, slumping forward on his hands. “Oh, the one he tried to give me while he was on drugs, Rose? That one?”

“Well, I don’t think he has another phone number so yeah, that one.” She slid the business card across the table to him. “He was stone cold sober last night and undressing you with his eyes. He’s also basically sober now. What’s the half-life of nitrous?”

“A few minutes,” Shane said automatically. 

“Exactly. Look, if you’re super freaked out, just wait until tomorrow. Tonight, even. He is officially not your patient and officially capable of making decisions. Even bad ones.” Shane hadn’t touched the business card so she leaned over and tucked it in his scrub pocket. “See you Monday. I will need immediate updates after you call or text him though.”

“Maybe I won’t,” Shane argued, watching her head out the door.

“Fine. Die alone,” she said breezily. 

Shane put his forehead back down on his desk with a groan.

Shane took out his phone and put it back down on the table, eyeing it suspiciously like it might bite him. He had been picking it up and putting it back down all day. He realized that Ilya could already be back in Boston by this point. He hadn’t asked him his exact travel plans because he wasn’t a creep who dated his patients. Usually.

On the other hand, Rose was right. Ilya was going back to his regular dentist. He’d essentially already discharged him from his practice. He’d text him instead of call. That seemed safer. 

Shane thought seriously about chucking his phone across the room. Maybe dropping it in a bucket of water. Or he could drown himself in the bucket. There were options.

Shane smoothed his Rose-approved shirt on the way to answer the door. Agonizing over his outfit had been a good distraction from worrying about the ethical consequences of inviting a (former) patient over to his house with the not-altogether vague hope that they would fuck. 

Ilya was staring at his shoes when he opened his front door, his eyes snapping up to meet Shane’s.

“You’re late,” Shane said, cringing before the words had fully left his mouth. They had agreed to meet at six. It was six-oh-five.

Ilya cocked his head at him.

Shane shook himself. “Fuck. Sorry. Come in.”

Ilya braced a hand against the wall as he toed off his shoes in the entryway, studying him. “I haven’t heard you swear before.”

“It’s not exactly professional to do in front of patients.” 

Ilya grinned wolfishly, taking a step towards Shane. “You like being professional. Following rules.”

“I mean, yes?” Didn’t everyone?

Ilya took another step and Shane backed up automatically, landing against the wall. Ilya traced the line of his jaw with his thumb, crowding him until their mouths were nearly touching. Shane could feel his pulse climb high in his throat.

“You’ll look good wearing bad decisions,” Ilya murmured, brushing his lips lightly against his while Shane swallowed the words down. “I can help.”

Shane pulled Ilya in by fistfuls of his coat and Ilya made a small, startled noise against his mouth. Ilya’s top lip was still swollen and bruised but if it was bothering him, he wasn’t showing it. Still, he tried to be gentle, sliding his tongue carefully into Ilya’s mouth and, because he couldn’t help himself, running it just along the edge of his teeth. 

Ilya pulled away slightly, smiling against his mouth. “Are you really checking my crown right now?”

“N- no,” Shane lied.

“You are really very weird,” Ilya murmured affectionately. “And you taste like toothpaste.”

Shane prided himself on his dental hygiene but it didn’t seem like the right time to discuss that. He was also finding it increasingly difficult to form words as Ilya shrugged out of his jacket, discarding it on the floor. He would forgive that for now, as he very much wanted less fabric between them. 

Ilya’s hand found the back of his neck, his fingers stroking across the short hairs at the nape, and Shane shivered before Ilya had even reclaimed his mouth. He let his hands drift under Ilya’s t-shirt, his skin still slightly chilled from outside. Ilya growled at the contact, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Shane worried faintly that Ilya would reopen the cut on his lip and kissed him harder when he imagined the metallic taste of his blood. Because he was depraved now, apparently. 

Ilya drew back, breathing hard. “Jesus, Hollander. You are good at that.” He kissed the corner of his mouth. “I will leave five-star Yelp review.” 

Shane felt the color drain from his face. “Please don’t.”

“You’re right,” Ilya said solemnly, eyeing the stairs that led to the master bedroom. “I don’t have enough information to leave a fully informed opinion. Worried you won’t live up to the review?”

Shane kissed the smug smile off his face, took Ilya’s hand, and led him upstairs.

“Not particularly.”