Chapter Text
“E bay is prepped. Ready when you are.”
The sound of quiet typing fills the room as you pull up the schedule.
“Mr. Kennedy, right?” You turn to look at the assistant standing in your office doorway. She nods. “Alright. Let’s go take a look.”
Life working for a top-secret government agency is less chaotic than one might assume. You fix cavities, not broken jaws. Leave that to the oral surgeons. Drilling and filling is more your style.
That isn’t to say that your days aren’t busy. Toothbrushes aren’t readily available in hidden underground facilities, so you have a steady stream of incipient cavities to treat. And by the time Friday hits? Patients have returned from their assignments with a various array of dental trauma. It turns out facing BOWs is a little hazardous for the natural dentition.
With a sigh, you stand up from your chair and lift your arms above your head, back popping loudly as you stretch. It’s 4 o’clock; almost time to take a shower, pour a glass of wine, and watch trash TV with your cat.
The hum of the saliva ejectors and muted small talk surrounds you as you walk down the hallway. Your patient is in the bay farthest from the office, and when you step into the room, a set of piercing blue eyes meet yours.
“Hey there, Leon,” you smile, gesturing towards the assistant standing by the computer. “Jamie tells me that you got into some trouble this week.”
“Something like that.” His eyes are tired, framed by crow’s feet and lined by thick, dark lashes. As he speaks, your eyes are drawn to his mouth, already piecing together what needs to be fixed.
You learned early on in your career that your patients’ traumas often lurk just beneath the surface, and asking for details was more cruel than kind. These days, you only ask the essentials and gather the rest yourself.
“Let’s see what we can do.” You pull on your gloves, the mechanical whirring of the chair filling the room as it slowly reclines. “Any pain? Sensitivity?”
Leon shakes his head. “Just a hit to my ego.”
Huffing a laugh, you tap on his chin. “Open up for me.” Quietly, you use the mirror to look around with practiced ease, noting the large chunk broken off of his left canine. “Jamie, note a class II fracture on the distal of eleven.”
You roll your chair back and meet his gaze, only to find him arching a curious brow at you. “That sounds complicated.”
“Don’t worry. It’s an easy fix,” you reassure him. “We’re just going to put a little composite where the chip is.”
Leon shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”
“Great. Let’s get started, then.” Turning towards the tray table, you gather a pea-sized amount of topical on a small cotton swab. Leon cringes as you place it in his mouth.
“God, that tastes like shit,” he mutters around the cotton swab, a small frown tugging at his lips.
“Sorry,” you laugh. “Would you believe me if I said the flavor is supposed to be pina colada?”
Leon shudders, giving you a look that says the company clearly missed the mark with that one.
Throwing him a sympathetic glance, you allow the topical to sit while you prepare the syringe, giving the plunger a few smacks before reaching over to remove the cotton swabs from his mouth. The stubble on his upper lip pokes at your skin when you use a finger to retract his upper lip — a sensation that feels oddly intimate.
“Little pinch here.” His icy blue eyes flutter shut, dark lashes kissing his cheeks as you raise the syringe.
When the needle slides in, Leon’s sharp intake of breath echoes in the quiet room. “Breathe through your nose, Leon.”
Warmth brushes over your knuckles as he exhales slowly. As soon as you withdraw, his gaze is fixed on yours once again.
“People might like you more if you didn’t stick them with pointy things, you know.” Leon’s words are dry, but you sense the spark of amusement beneath them.
“Unfortunately, people aren’t typically excited to see me, pointy things or no. I think half of the people I see every day hate me.” Your voice is light with humor. You’d accepted this part of your career a long time ago. “Well, not me. What I do. But I’m used to it.”
Something in his eyes flash — understanding, perhaps — but it’s gone in an instant, so fast that you convince yourself it was a trick of the light.
The procedure itself is quick and painless. Thirty minutes come and go, and after a final polish of the restoration, you remove your gloves and grab a business card from the counter beside you.
“If you have any lingering pain or sensitivity, let me know. I’ll be out of town next week for a conference, but if there are any problems with the filling, we’ll get you into the office once I’m back.”
Leon nods, taking the card from your outstretched fingers. Your cell number is printed across the front in bold ink.
“Safe travels.” He slides the card into his pocket. “I’ll see you around?”
You nod and smile warmly, giving his shoulder a friendly pat. “Don’t be a stranger.”
A half-smile graces his lips, and although the assistant has already started speaking to him about scheduling a cleaning in six months, he can’t help but stare at your retreating figure leaving the room.