You're Never Fully Dressed (Without A Smile) [joncer, frerard, cash/singer, nc17]
Title: You're Never Fully Dressed (Without A Smile)
Author: silver_etoile
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/Spencer, Frank/Gerard, Cash/Singer (Ryan/Brendon)
POV: Third
Disclaimer: Not true.
Summary: The sign on the door reads Spencer Smith M.D., Family Dentistry. The sign set in nice, neat letters above the door reads Simply Smiles, and Spencer had known that letting his hygienist pick out the name was a bad idea.
A/N: This was originally for BBB wave one, but I wrote something else so it got demoted to regular fic. :] It's been like two months since I posted a fic.. hope you haven't forgotten me, heh.
*
The sign on the door reads Spencer Smith M.D., Family Dentistry. The sign set in nice, neat letters above the door reads Simply Smiles, and Spencer had known that letting his hygienist pick out the name was a bad idea.
“It’s simple, it’s easy to remember, and it’s alliteration!”
Spencer is pretty sure there’s a reason why dentists are supposedly suicidal, and he’s almost positive it has to do with their hygienists.
“Guess who’s coming in today!” Brendon sing-songs as he ducks around the wall partition into where Spencer is busy rearranging the instruments set out on the tray. The mirror just doesn’t go next to the tongue depressor and Brendon never seems to remember that.
Brendon is grinning in that way that makes Spencer want to shove a stick of the sugar-free gum they keep in a basket out on the receptionist’s desk into his mouth so he’ll be quiet.
“Bobby Flahey?” he asks instead, tone disinterested as he nudges the mirror perpendicular to the edge of the tray.
“No,” Brendon says, then pauses. “Well, yes, but no.”
Sighing, Spencer turns, brushing off nonexistent dust from his white coat. He doesn’t have time to play Brendon’s games, not this early in the morning.
Brendon grins when Spencer doesn’t reply.
“Jon Walker.”
“It hasn’t been six months yet,” Spencer says before he can stop himself and takes a second to curse himself as Brendon’s face lights up.
“Aha!”
“What ‘aha’?” Spencer asks skeptically, brushing past him and heading for the front office. The first appointment should already be there, which means Brendon should be at work already, not bothering Spencer in the back rooms.
The front room is bright and sunny, and the small television in the corner is playing some Disney movie for the people waiting. There are only two people there, neither of which are Jon Walker, thank God.
“Bobby Flahey’s here,” Gerard mumbles from behind the desk. He doesn’t look up as Spencer appears in the doorway, just bends over whatever he’s drawing, tracing a long curve over the paper. The computer screen is a spreadsheet of appointments, and Spencer’s eyes are immediately drawn to the one o’clock Jon Walker square, colored in purple for good measure.
“Send him back to room one,” Spencer replies, glancing at Brendon.
Brendon doesn’t move, still grinning at Spencer. “You remember Jon, right?” he asks, and Spencer ignores him, or tries to, as he turns from the door and heads into the back corridors. “The really hot advertising exec?”
“He’s head of art design not an exec,” Spencer corrects automatically and cringes as Brendon grins.
“You totally like him!” he declares, and Spencer rolls his eyes. “I bet you even know when he came in last, don’t you? It was a Wednesday, right? ‘Cause those are the only ones he can take off early, and you know it, don’t you?”
“Don’t you have to work to do?” Spencer snaps finally, hating that Brendon is right. Of course Jon last came in on a Wednesday. It was cold that day, the first snow of the season happened that night. Spencer remembers watching it through the window in his living room, replaying Jon’s smile.
Brendon bounces, and if the gum weren’t sugar-free, Spencer would accuse him of stealing some. He already knows that Mikey does when he comes to visit Gerard. He wouldn’t be surprised if Brendon does too.
“So are you gonna ask him out finally?” Brendon asks, ignoring that it’s half-past ten and Bobby Flahey should already be strapped to a chair, his mouth wide open.
“No,” Spencer replies obviously as he stops in the doorway to his office. “I’m going to do my job like you should be doing right now.”
Brendon isn’t affected at all. “You should ask him out,” he says sagely as though he has any authority on the matter. “Or someone else will, and then you’ll say, ‘Now, why didn’t I listen to Brendon? He’s always right, and handsome too.’”
“Remind me again why I keep you around?” Spencer asks, hands on his hips, and Brendon pauses.
“Because I’m your best friend and I’m the only hygienist you have, and because I’m the only one who can get kids to stop crying when you tell them they’re going to get cavities and die.”
“Well, they are,” Spencer grumbles.
Brendon pats his head, ignoring the glare he gets. “You should ask Jon out today. It might be another six months before you see him again, and then what? You keep waiting and he’ll get all old, and I mean, he’s still really nice, but you can’t wait forever.”
Spencer glares. “I hope Bobby bites you.” Turning, he leaves Brendon in the hall calling after him.
“I bet Jon would bite if you asked nicely!”
The door to the office slams shut and Brendon merely shrugs, heading off to the reception area to start the day.
*
The front office is neatly organized with the front door opening up to an airy waiting room, magazines tucked into the rack by the chairs and a little area for the kids in the corner, sunk down about a foot from the rest of the floor complete with a TV eternally playing Disney movies at a low volume and some toys scattered on the floor.
The walls are a plain white, a few photographs and posters stuck up behind the waiting chairs and behind the reception desk.
The reception desk is tall, almost too tall so that Gerard always has to look up when he’s sitting in the chair and someone new comes in. The bell on the door always warns him ahead of time but he doesn’t usually bother acknowledging a presence until their bodies throw a shadow over his drawings.
“Do you ever actually do work?”
Mikey’s voice interrupts Gerard’s furtive attempts at ignoring whoever just came in the door, which was apparently Mikey.
“Do you?” Gerard replies, not glancing up and doodling a dragon on the corner of his paper.
Mikey shrugs, leaning against the counter and glancing around the waiting room. There are only a few people flipping uninterestedly through the magazines and glancing at the clock on the wall. Turning back, he flicks vaguely through the little basket of sugar-free gum perched on the countertop. He doesn’t take one, though.
“Slow day?” he asks and Gerard grunts vaguely. His life isn’t exactly full of excitement, working as a receptionist at a dentists’ office.
It’s quiet in the office except whatever movie is playing and Gerard has no desire to disrupt that at all. Spencer had already seemed to be in a surly mood since that morning and Gerard is content to leave him alone.
“Want to take me out to lunch?” Mikey asks finally and Gerard’s eyes flick up briefly.
“It’s only eleven in the morning.”
“Lunch time in polite societies,” Mikey replies, pushing up his glasses and blinking at Gerard as though it should make sense, and it does to some degree when he remembers that this is Mikey, his little brother who spends his days playing video games for a living.
“I can’t,” he mutters instead.
Mikey watches him for a second before arching an eyebrow and plucking a pack of gum from the basket.
*
“If you didn’t smoke or drink so much coffee, your teeth would be whiter,” Spencer says as he slides his chair back, reaching for the fluoride.
“Oh, come on,” Frank says good-naturedly, lying back and staring at the bright light shining in his face. “I saw that pot of coffee in the front office.
“That’s Gerard’s, not mine,” Spencer replies. “Lie back.” He pushes Frank’s head back.
“Re’ey?” Franks asks, mouth open as Spencer puts in the fluoride.
“Yes, now stop talking and don’t swallow.”
Frank falls silent, staring up at the light again while Spencer leaves the room for a minute. The room is hospital white and there’s some filtered music playing distantly in the background as he sits there, waiting. It isn’t long before Spencer is back and taking the fluoride out, handing Frank the little sucking vacuum.
“So Gerard drinks coffee?” Frank asks once his mouth is relatively dry.
“Yes,” Spencer says. “Rinse.”
Spencer doesn’t really mind talking to his patients, but Frank comes for a cleaning way more often than is really necessary, and he tends to focus the conversation on one thing the whole time. However, talking to Frank is helping to distract from the fact that it’s nearly twelve, which means it’s nearly one, which means that Jon will be there soon.
“You’re all done,” Spencer says finally and Frank struggles up from the chair, taking off the little bib and stuffing it in the trash.
“Hey,” Frank says before he leaves and Spencer starts to clean up. “How do you kiss someone after knowing about all the crazy things in their mouths?”
Surprised, Spencer pauses. “I guess you just try to ignore that.”
“Huh.” Frank looks thoughtful for a second and then shrugs. “I’ll see you later, Dr. Smith.”
Spencer nods slowly. “Feel free to pick up some gum on your way out.”
Frank grins. “Oh, I will.”
He leaves and Spencer resumes his tidying and reminds himself not to think about kissing anyone. When he’s done, he heads down the hall to check on his next appointment and he isn’t really surprised when he runs into Brendon and Singer, the kid he’s supposed to be mentoring, or rather, his dental assistant student who’s doing his required work study.
“What are you doing?” he asks tiredly, already fearing the answer as Singer’s eyes dart to him and Brendon straightens up.
“Singer’s crush is here and he’s afraid to go in.
“I don’t have a crush,” Singer tries to argue, but Spencer arches an eyebrow.
“You mean his asshole neighbor?”
“That’s the one,” Brendon says, peeking around and trying to see into the exam room.
“Be quiet!” Singer hisses, cheeks pink. “He might hear you!”
“Which part? The crush or the asshole?”
“Both!” Singer looks distressed as he tugs at the hem of his pink scrubs - Brendon insists pink makes the patients feel better. Spencer thinks they just look stupid.
Rolling his eyes, Spencer gives Singer a push. “Go do your job. Personal feelings shouldn’t get in the way of work. He’s just another patient.”
Singer still looks nervous, but he nods and steels himself before heading inside the room.
“Not get in the way of work, huh?” Brendon asks as Spencer turns and continues on his intended path from earlier. “Just another patient? Is Jon just another patient?”
“Don’t start,” Spencer cuts him off. After all, Spencer isn’t an inexperienced twenty-two year old like Singer. He’s almost thirty - well, he’s got a couple years left, but the thought is not encouraging as he strides down the hallway, Brendon trailing after him.
“But he’s coming in today and what if he finally has met someone who wasn’t too afraid to ask him out?”
“I’m not afraid,” Spencer snaps and then huffs. “What I mean is, I’m not interested, alright?”
Brendon gives him a knowing look as Spencer opens the door to his office, hoping to shake him off, but it has never worked, and Brendon follows him inside.
“But you’re getting old! You need to find someone to settle down with.”
Spencer glares. “We’re the same age. You’re older even.”
Brendon ignores him, rounding the desk when Spencer slides down into his chair. It’s almost time for lunch and he’ll have a whole hour to obsess over the fact that Jon is coming and he has a great smile.
“You need someone to love.”
Unimpressed, Spencer’s eyes narrow at Brendon.
“You need someone to put up with your bitch face,” Brendon offers cheerfully and Spencer tells himself that he’s known Brendon ten years and killing him now would just be a waste. And after all, he thinks he’s helping Spencer while really he’s just driving him crazy.
“Get out,” Spencer orders. “Go clean rooms two and three until they shine or something.”
Brendon shakes his head hopelessly. “Jon Walker isn’t impressed by cleanliness.”
“Out” Spencer orders again with a glare and Brendon concedes.
“Fine, fine, but if you don’t ask him out, I’m gonna do it for you.”
Spencer will kill him if he does, but he’s leaving and that’s all that matters at the moment. As the door closes behind him, Spencer lets his head fall onto the desk as he groans.
*
Mikey is chewing on his gum slowly, not attempting to blow bubbles, and Gerard ignores him, closing out the appointment list and glancing at the clock. It’s nearly lunchtime and he’ll probably let Mikey convince him to go out instead of eating his sad little lunch in the back.
He sees Mikey straighten up out of the corner of his eye and he pauses carefully.
“Hey, Mikey.” A familiar voice rings out and Gerard freezes. He can already feel Mikey’s eyes on him as he sits there, reaching for a stack of papers and reorganizing them uselessly.
“Frank,” Mikey says calmly, folding up his gum wrapper and tucking it in his pocket.
“Hi, Gerard,” Frank greets him with a grin, teeth freshly cleaned.
“Hi,” Gerard mutters, shuffling through the papers as Frank picks out a packet of gum.
“So you like coffee?” Frank asks, eyes straying to the half-empty pot sitting in a back corner of the reception area.
“He lives on coffee,” Mikey offers unhelpfully and Gerard isn’t sure if he should be annoyed at him or not.
“Me too,” Frank replies, bouncing up. He’s just slightly taller than the counter. He grins at Gerard, and Gerard doesn’t smile back, just blinks stupidly up at him. After a second, Frank rocks back down on his heels and smiles at Mikey. “I guess I should get back to work.”
Mikey glances at Gerard, who busies himself with the computer.
“I’ll call for my next appointment,” he says and Gerard looks up once his back is turned and he’s halfway out the door.
“What was that?” Mikey asks as the bell stops ringing and Gerard glances at him.
“What?”
“Frank sure gets his teeth cleaned a lot,” Mikey comments. “He even knows my name.”
“He’s a promoter. He’s supposed to be personable and remember shit like that.”
“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t come here just for the free gum,” he points out and Gerard frowns, eyes darting to the basket. “He practically asked you out on a date.”
“He did not,” Gerard argues, tossing the papers aside and reaching for the coffee pot.
Mikey watches him pour the last of the coffee into his cup and Gerard can practically feel the eye roll. “Your common love of coffee? He was asking you out.”
“He was not,” Gerard insists firmly, but Mikey shakes his head, pushing up his glasses again.
“How many times has he had his teeth cleaned in the past year?”
“I don’t know,” Gerard mutters, bristling slightly. He doesn’t need his little brother setting him up or butting into his personal life.
“I’ve seen him at least three times,” Mikey puts in and Gerard stubbornly doesn’t reply. What does it matter how often Frank comes in? Mikey casts him a glance. “You have his phone number. You should call him.”
“And ask him when his next appointment is?” Gerard deadpans, and Mikey shrugs.
“Or tell him you’re an idiot and invite him for coffee.”
“I am not,” Gerard grumbles. “And I have plenty of coffee.”
“But you don’t have Frank,” Mikey points out and Gerard just looks at the clock again.
*
It’s one o’clock all too soon and lunch is over. Spencer waits in his office after the clock hits one, knowing that Jon is probably already there and laughing with Brendon about something. Jon is always on time.
He’s being stupid, he tells himself, as he rises from the chair and shrugs on his white coat over his tee shirt. Doing up the buttons slowly, he reminds himself that he is a professional dentist and Jon is just another patient… who happens to have a great smile and a nice laugh.
“Spencer.” Brendon appears at the doorway just as he’s about to leave, sticking his head in and nearly hitting him.
“What?” Spencer asks, annoyed and stumbling back.
“Jon’s ready.”
“Great,” Spencer mutters, brushing his coat straight and stepping out. Brendon is grinning at him but Spencer ignores him. “Isn’t there someone else scheduled?”
“Yep,” Brendon replies simply, bouncing away when they reach Jon’s room.
He’s just another patient, Spencer tells himself as he heads in, seeing Jon reclined in the chair, flip flops dangling off the edge. He tilts back when Spencer enters and grins. Spencer blinks but keeps going.
“Dr. Smith,” Jon says slowly, “how is the world of dentistry today?”
“Screwy,” Spencer mutters, trying to ignore the way his stomach flutters dangerously as Jon’s grin widens.
“Did you get bitten?”
“No,” he mutters, sliding his chair up and sitting down next to Jon. He distracts himself by putting on his gloves. “So it hasn’t been six months,” he says as he repositions the light above Jon. His gaze strays to Jon’s feet, his toes wiggling in his flip flops. Shaking himself, he pulls his eyes away as Jon answers.
“Yeah, but my back left molar has been feeling weird so I figured I’d come by. Besides, we don’t see enough of each other, don’t you think?”
“I guess,” Spencer allows slowly, catching Jon’s eye for a second before he pulls away. “Open your mouth and we’ll take a look.”
Spencer is vaguely aware that everything he says as a dentist could be misconstrued as some sort of innuendo, as Brendon likes to frequently do, but it’s his job. He’s not entirely sure that other people aren’t thinking the same thing, though, especially when Jon bites back a smile and does as he’s told.
Ignoring Jon watching him, Spencer tries to go through the procedure normally. He peers into Jon’s mouth, eyes darting to the rough stubble on his cheeks for a second before he refocuses.
“I found the problem,” he says as he moves back, removing the tongue depressor from Jon’s mouth and Jon watches him. “You have a cavity.”
“What?” Jon asks. “That’s not possible.”
Spencer shrugs. “Well, you do. It’s not that bad, though. It’s a good thing you came in now.”
“Yeah?” Jon asks, and he’s smiling again and Spencer falters.
“Uh, yeah,” he says, putting away the mirror. “We can just do a simple filling and you’ll be in and out in no time.”
“Great,” Jon agrees, struggling to sit up. Spencer presses the button and the chair slides up suddenly, throwing Jon face to face with Spencer.
Spencer swallows for a second and blinks at Jon. “Sorry,” he breathes, sliding his chair back quickly, and Jon pauses, watching him go.
“When can I see you again?”
“What?” Spencer asks quickly, fumbling with his gloves as he pulls them off.
“For the filling,” Jon continues, sliding over to sit sideways in the chair.
“You can talk to Gerard,” Spencer replies, already cleaning up even though Jon hasn’t moved from the chair. He sort of wishes he would because then he could pretend that his stomach isn’t fluttering nervously every time Jon looks at him. “He’ll set it up.”
Jon nods slowly. “Can I ask you something?”
Spencer pauses carefully. “Sure.”
“Why did you want to be a dentist?”
Throwing the tools in the sanitizer, Spencer pauses. “I like smiles.”
Jon is quiet for a second and then his mouth curves. “So do I.”
Spencer isn’t really sure what to say to that, but Jon continues, sliding off the chair and standing up. Spencer stands too because he hates sitting when others are standing around him. Jon pauses next to him, eyes taking in his perfectly white coat.
“I like your smile.”
Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat, and he can hear the thud in his ears. Jon isn’t smiling now and Spencer stalls for words. In the end, he takes a stumbling step back, running into the cabinet while Jon watches.
“Gerard can set you up with an appointment for the filling,” he says quickly, hating that his palms are sweating when nothing has even happened.
Jon pauses, giving him a curious look, but in the end he shrugs. “Okay. I’ll be seeing you soon then.”
“Sure,” Spencer replies, too cheerfully, holding the door open for Jon as he heads back to the front.
Once he’s gone, he hits himself in the head, annoyed. He’s so stupid. He’s never going to tell Brendon about this or he’ll be poked until he actually does ask Jon out.
The problem with asking Jon out is that Jon is his client, and there’s a strict code of ethics against doctor-patient relations. Brendon doesn’t seem to understand that. He’s all for setting people up no matter what’s in the way.
Sinking onto the patient chair, Spencer groans to himself. Maybe he should just take Brendon’s advice, but then, he thinks, when has Brendon ever had sound advice? Almost never.
Instead, he pushes the light away uninterestedly and watches as it swings back, a circle of light jiggling over the floor.
*
It’s past midnight and Alex is awake. He shouldn’t be awake because he has to work in the morning, has to be at the office by nine because he and Brendon have prep work to do, but he is awake, and he knows exactly why.
He lies in bed in the darkness, staring at the splattering of moonlight across the ceiling and listening to the thud of music seeping in through the wall in the next-door apartment. He can’t hear the words, but it’s loud enough that he can hear the key changes, the thump of the base, the strum of the guitar ripping through the thin plaster.
He knows exactly who’s on the other side of that door too - his ‘asshole neighbor’ as Dr. Smith would say.
It’s almost one in the morning and he can’t sleep for the noise pulsing in his ears. This isn’t anything new, which makes it all the more worse for Alex as he lies there, wide awake.
Groaning, he rolls over, reaching up to bang on the wall a few times, hoping that maybe, in some alternate universe, that will help and stupid Cash Colligan will turn down his stereo and go to sleep like normal people do.
He waits a second, listening for a drop in volume, but nothing happens. He bangs one more time before grabbing his pillow and stuffing it over his head, cursing hot guys with no consideration for anyone else.
*
“Date me, Ryan Ross.”
“No,” Ryan says, pushing the letters into the box and ignoring Brendon and his pink scrubs.
“You should say yes,” Brendon replies simply, and Ryan recloses his mail bag and considers Brendon.
“No.”
“Kiss me, Ryan Ross,” Brendon says instead, and Ryan readjusts his blue hat on his messy brown hair. He sends Brendon a look.
“No.”
“Do you know any words other than no?” Brendon asks as Ryan turns to head back to his truck.
“No,” Ryan replies, climbing inside, and Brendon watches him pull away. Shrugging, he goes back inside the office, the bell ringing in his wake.
Gerard is in his place behind the desk, doodling in his sketchbook instead of answering the phones or filing patient’s records.
“Mail’s here,” Brendon says, tossing it on the counter.
“He say yes?” Gerard asks without looking up, charcoal curving around the edge of the dragon’s back. His fingers are smudged with black and there are marks on his cheek too. Spencer hadn’t said anything when he’d passed by earlier, only given him a look and muttered something about professionalism and why didn’t his staff have any.
“No,” Brendon says, echoing Ryan’s answer.
“Why do you keep asking then?” Gerard mutters to his paper, rubbing the charcoal in.
“Someday he’ll say yes, maybe,” Brendon replies. “Can’t say yes if I don’t ask.”
Gerard makes a vague noise as the phone rings again and he deflates slightly.
“We should get back to work before Spencer has a heart attack,” Brendon offers, tapping the mail against the counter and disappearing into the back.
Sighing, Gerard reaches for the phone.
“Thank you for calling Simply Smiles, Dr. Spencer Smith family dentistry.”
“Gerard?”
It’s not Mikey, and it’s not Singer, even though he’s late to work. Gerard pauses.
“Yes?” he replies uncertainly.
“Hey, it’s Frank.”
Oh.
“Uh, hi, Frank,” Gerard says after a second. “Are you calling to schedule another appointment?”
“No,” Frank says slowly, and Gerard pauses. “I’m calling to ask what your favorite kind of coffee is.”
“Why?” Gerard doesn’t understand, and he can hear the pause on the other end of the phone. That’s the bad thing with being the receptionist. He has to answer phones and get all the awkward pauses.
“Because it’s the one question I’m pretty sure you’ll answer, and I gotta work my way up.”
“Up to what?” Gerard asks, confused, but Frank makes a noise.
“Uh-uh. So what’s your favorite kind of coffee?”
“Uhm.” Gerard forestalls. “Black, no sugar, no milk.”
“Okay,” Frank says, and Gerard can hear the smile in his voice. “Thanks.”
The line goes dead and Gerard hangs up his end slowly. Glancing back at his coffee pot, he frowns and thinks that he needs a cigarette.
*
I like your smile.
The words are resonating in his head and Spencer can’t get rid of them. They’re there when he goes to sleep, there when he gets up, there when he looks at the tongue depressor. They’re everywhere.
Spencer doesn’t know what to do. He’s not a stupid teenager. It shouldn’t be this much trouble now that’s he’s older and has more important things to worry about other than getting his braces stuck when he kisses someone or losing his retainer. Now he has to worry about doctor-patient relationships and keeping Brendon away from calling Jon up and setting up a date behind his back.
“You didn’t ask him out, did you?” Brendon asks, leaning against the doorframe while Spencer goes through papers on his desk.
Glancing up through his reading glasses, Spencer arches an eyebrow. “He said no, didn’t he?”
Brendon rolls his eyes, coming inside and shutting the door behind him. He plops down in the second chair across from Spencer, picking at the nameplate at the edge. He turns it over in his hands and slaps it against his palm.
“Will you stop?” Spencer asks, reaching out, but Brendon pulls it back.
“Will you ask him out?”
“Stop that,” Spencer says, annoyed, but Brendon leans forward.
“You started it. And besides, I do it because I love you.”
“You do it to annoy me,” Spencer shoots back. “Now give it.”
“Not this,” Brendon says obviously, handing over the plate. “Jon.”
“What about Jon?” Spencer asks, rolling his eyes. He has work to do and Brendon should too. They don’t exactly have an empty practice out there.
“You didn’t ask him out!” Brendon exclaims and Spencer sighs in frustration.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, you should!”
“No, Brendon,” Spencer replies, annoyed. “I should do my job and you should do yours, and Jon should come every six months like he’s supposed to.”
Brendon isn’t deterred. He frowns at Spencer. “But you could see him every day.”
“I see you every day but that doesn’t mean I like you.”
“You wound me, Spencer Smith,” Brendon says, clutching at his chest overdramatically as Spencer rises from his chair, tossing his glasses down and rounding the desk.
“Yeah, yeah,” Spencer replies, giving Brendon a push towards the door. “Why don’t you actually go do work?”
Brendon sends him a skeptical look as he’s shoved towards the door. “By the way, Singer just got here.”
“Good,” Spencer says, shoving Brendon out the door. “Now go work.”
Brendon gives a mock salute as he vanishes into one of the patient rooms.
Wandering through the small maze of white hallways, Spencer finds Singer sucking on a mug of coffee like a lifeline in the back.
Stopping before him, Spencer’s hands go to his hips and Singer looks up, a guilty expression on his face.
“It’s not my fault,” he says immediately, and Spencer doesn’t reply. “You remember my neighbor?”
“The guy with the dollar sign tattooed on his arm who thinks fluoride is fun to swallow?”
“That was an accident… I think,” Singer mutters. “But yeah, him. Cash.”
“What about him?” Spencer asks tiredly. There are only so many excuses he can accept, and it isn’t as though Singer is late very often anyway.
“He plays his music really loud at god awful hours of the morning and I can’t sleep, so I sort of slept through my alarm this morning because I was awake listening to punk rock music all night,” Singer blurts in one big breath, hoping he’s not about to get into a ton of trouble.
“Why didn’t you just ask him to turn it down?” Spencer asks obviously and Singer hesitates.
“I banged on the wall,” he offers slowly, quailing under Spencer’s glare. “I can’t ask him.”
“Why not?” Spencer demands. Singer hides behind his coffee cup.
Singer has only been working for Spencer for about six months, just long enough to run into his neighbor twice outside of the hallway. He’s known his neighbor since he moved in, and by known he means, he’s seen him a few times coming in and out of his apartment with different girls on each occasion and knows his taste in music very well.
Singer just wants to get through his work study alive. When he first came to work for Spencer, he’d been terrified of making a mistake, and the day Brendon caught him singing in the supply room, he’d nearly died, but Brendon had just started calling him Singer and he’d managed to stay afloat, but with Spencer giving him that look right now, hands on his hips, he doesn’t think he’s going to survive much longer.
“I can’t actually talk to him,” Singer says finally.
“You talk to him here all the time.”
“I ask him if he flosses,” Singer replies. “I don’t tell him to stop sleeping around and turn down the music.”
“Maybe you should,” Spencer says, annoyed. “And be on time to work.”
Singer nods quickly, glad when Spencer turns at Brendon’s voice, calling him to a room.
*
Jon Walker is scheduled as the last appointment on Friday afternoon, although it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference considering the clinic is closed on Mondays and Thursdays. It’s hardly a weekend for Spencer, but he spends the whole week dreading it.
He spends the day distracting himself with other patients. He cleans teeth, fixes a broken brace, pulls an infected tooth, and tells himself that after work, he’ll go see a movie as a reward. He listens to Gerard on the phone, answering in a confused tone that he doesn’t like romantic comedies - he likes horror movies. Spencer doesn’t hear the end of the conversation but he’s pretty sure he knows who was calling.
By the time four thirty rolls around, all the rest of the patients have been taken care of and Spencer peeks into the waiting room to find Jon there, flipping uninterestedly through a copy of Cosmo magazine from the rack. Gerard is behind the desk as usual, using the computer to check on new releases of comics instead of doing any work, and Spencer makes a quick decision as he hovers in the doorway.
“Gerard,” he says, coming out, and Gerard doesn’t even make a show of shutting the internet windows, just leaves them open as he glances over. “You can go home. I’ll finish up tonight.”
Gerard stares at him for a second but Spencer doesn’t fidget, and eventually, Gerard pushes the remaining papers on the desk into a pile and grabs his coat off the back of the chair.
“See you tomorrow,” Spencer says as Gerard pulls on his jacket and nods vaguely.
Singer is already gone and Brendon is setting up for Jon’s appointment in the back, so Spencer turns to Jon in the waiting room. Jon has already tossed down the magazine and smiles when Spencer meets his eyes.
“Room two,” Spencer says, a little jerkily, and Jon rises, following Spencer back.
“You guys are open tomorrow?” Jon asks as they walk the short ways to the exam room.
“Yeah,” Spencer replies simply, avoiding looking back at Jon as they reach the room and he holds the door open for him. “We’re busiest on weekends.”
“It must suck, though,” Jon says as he goes in ahead of Spencer and Brendon beams at him from by the chair, where he’s finishing the set-up. “Not having two days off in a row.”
Spencer shrugs and Jon sits down in the chair. Brendon nudges Spencer in the ribs, and Spencer glares momentarily. “But I get to sleep in on the most-hated day of the week.”
“True.” Jon laughs, and Spencer looks away to Brendon.
“Bren, you don’t have to stick around. You can head home. I can take care of things tonight.”
“I bet you can.” Brendon grins obviously, glancing over to where Jon is settling into the chair, feet and flip flops dangling over the edge.
Spencer doesn’t reply except to frown disapprovingly at Brendon’s wiggling eyebrows. He has no intention of doing anything other than professional with Jon, his patient.
“Go home, Brendon,” he orders, and Brendon still grins.
“Sure thing, Doctor.” He turns to Jon, who is now watching them curiously. “Bye, Jon. Good luck.”
As Brendon leaves, Spencer rolls his eyes to himself. Sometimes he wishes he just had a normal hygienist like the girls when he’d done his work study. Greta never asked about his love life.
“He’s not exactly your normal hygienist, is he?” Jon asks as Spencer heads for the sink, washing his hands thoroughly.
“Not exactly,” he mutters, thinking back on the first time he’d ever met Brendon, nearly ten years ago in undergrad. He’d walked into his brand new dorm and found some kid he’d never seen before poking through his boxes to see what he’d brought. Needless to say, it had been a rocky start, but Brendon had grown on him, or rather, attached himself to him and refused to let go.
“He said something earlier about your aversion to sugar-free gum,” Jon says as Spencer pulls on his white gloves and frowns back at him.
“Do you always talk about your dentist to the hygienist?” Spencer asks calmly, although his heart is creeping up when Jon smiles at him.
“He said it, not me.” Jon shifts in the chair, glancing up at the pristine ceiling. “Besides, shouldn’t dentists be all about sugar-free stuff? I mean, that’s all you’ve got in the basket.”
Spencer snaps on his second glove and sinks down into the chair next to Jon. “Sometimes you just need sugar to make things taste decent,” he replies. “Although don’t tell Brendon I said that or he’ll think it’s an excuse to drink Red Bull and those things rot your teeth.”
Jon laughs, but Spencer is busy with the tools, trying to ignore him and remind himself that in about five minutes, Jon won’t be able to talk. He has work to do after all, instead of discussing his like or dislike of sugar.
“I’m going to numb your mouth,” he says, pulling out the shot, and Jon gives it an uneasy look.
“Ouch, they don’t tell you about this when you’re five and your mom bribes you with candy to go see the dentist.”
“It’s not that bad,” Spencer assures him, pushing Jon’s head gently back against the chair, not pausing as his fingers brush against the stubble on his chin. “It’ll be fine in about half an hour usually.”
“Alright,” Jon agrees slowly, glancing at Spencer and biting his lip. “But you better not do anything unprofessional while I can’t feel my mouth.”
Spencer stops for a second and even Jon pauses.
“Never mind,” he says with a laugh and Spencer jerks himself away from where his mind had momentarily flickered, eyes landing on Jon’s mouth and forcing himself back to work.
“This really shouldn’t take long,” Spencer mutters as he scoots his chair closer to Jon. “You can just sit back and relax.”
“Do you ever talk to people while you do this?” Jon asks and Spencer frowns slightly. “You should make this more fun and talk to me.”
“About what?” Spencer replies uneasily. There’s not a lot that he has to say to his patients aside from asking the obligatory questions about family and life, the little bits he remembers from previous visits. When it comes to actual conversation beyond that he’s not very good at it, and Jon is looking up at him expectantly.
“I don’t know.” Jon shrugs awkwardly in the chair. “Anything.”
“Right,” Spencer mutters as he gives Jon the numbing shot and starts the work. “Uh. I think my entire office is going crazy. Maybe it’s like spring fever or something.”
Jon just looks up at him as Spencer works, not replying but waiting.
“Gerard’s getting weird calls from I think Frank, who hasn’t actually asked him out yet, but Gerard is pretty clueless, so maybe he did and Gerard didn’t even notice. And then there’s Singer who’s got a huge crush on his asshole neighbor who probably doesn’t even know he exists. So when he’s late to work, I know who to blame, but that doesn’t make it any better.”
Spencer falls silent as he thinks about his staff and how much he wishes sometimes he could have normal people working for him. Instead he’s got a hygienist determined to set him up, a work study kid late because of some guy he can’t even talk to, and a receptionist too wrapped up in his own world of dragons and vampires to realize the guy who gets his teeth cleaned once a month wants to buy him those dragons and vampires.
Filling work is always one of the easiest things to do, which Spencer is glad for because he’s got Jon lying out on the chair, toes tapping to some invisible beat, watching him work silently.
“When I was doing my work study, I worked with this doctor who was dating his hygienist, which was really kind of weird. I kept waiting for them to break up and ruin the practice.”
He sighs, adjusting his mask while Jon waits quietly.
The rest of the office is silent around them, empty of people, and Spencer knows all he has to do after this is clean up and put together a few last reports before he can go home for the night, before he can leave Jon’s smile behind and await the next appointment six months down the road.
“Almost done,” he murmurs about half an hour later and Jon looks up at him patiently.
The filling is done and ready a few moments later and Spencer pulls off his mask, tossing it away.
“You’re all set. Can you feel your mouth?”
Jon pushes himself up slowly, feeling his jaw. “It’s a little tingly,” he says thoughtfully.
“It might be like that for a while,” Spencer warns him. “But otherwise, just don’t eat anything hard in the next twenty-four hours and you should be fine. And brush your teeth more.”
“How do you know this wasn’t just a fluke?” Jon asks as Spencer stands up, beginning to clean up the room. “I mean, maybe the teeth gods are just mad at me because I spend my life marketing sugar-filled drinks to children?”
“Teeth karma?” Spencer asks skeptically and Jon grins, licking his lips.
“Why not? I brush, a lot. What other explanation could there be?”
Spencer laughs but it’s more of a scoff. “That your teeth aren’t as strong as you thought. I mean, as you get older, they get weaker.”
“I am not that old,” Jon argues simply, and he still hasn’t gotten up off the chair while Spencer puts everything away. “I’m just mature, like a fine wine, you know? It gets better with age.”
Spencer can’t help smiling, but he hides it as he turns off the sanitizer and puts the tools away. Glancing back at Jon, he pauses.
Jon is sitting on the chair, feet a little too short to reach the ground, and he meets Spencer’s eye before sliding off and coming around the little chair, pushing it off to the side.
“Spencer,” he says slowly and Spencer pauses, shutting the drawer behind him carefully and turning to Jon. “What are you doing next Saturday night?”
“I don’t know,” Spencer replies slowly. “Watching the Golden Girls and having a slumber party?”
Jon smiles and Spencer takes a step back, running into the square corner of the counter and watching as Jon doesn’t move.
“How about dinner instead?”
“With you?” Spencer asks stupidly because of course Jon means with him, and it’s obvious when Jon laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he nods.
“With me,” he confirms.
It comes out before Spencer even really thinks about it.
“Look, Jon, I really shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” Jon tilts his head to the side and takes a step forward. “It’s just dinner.”
“It’s not just dinner,” Spencer replies, hands curling around the edge of the counter as Jon comes closer. “It’s a… date.”
“So?” Jon smiles slowly. “You’re not averse to those too, right?”
“No, it’s just-”
“What happened to that dentist who dated his hygienist?” Jon interrupts, looking into Spencer’s eyes as they stand there, suspended in some sort of weird moment, surrounded by an empty office and a darkening sky outside.
“I don’t know,” Spencer says, “I think they got married or something but-”
“Married, Spencer,” Jon repeats, crowding in closer despite Spencer leaning back.
He can smell Jon’s aftershave this close, faded in the afternoon, can almost feel the soft cotton of his shirt pressing against him. Swallowing, he’s not sure if anything happened he’d have the strength to push Jon away.
Spencer would never tell Brendon, but he’s definitely pictured Jon in situations other than professional, and they usually didn’t involve shirts or white lab coats.
“I’m just asking for dinner,” Jon murmurs. “Just a meal with you and with me.”
“Jon,” Spencer tries to say, tries to tell him, but Jon shakes his head.
“You may have a doctorate,” Jon says, and he’s too close now, and Spencer can feel his heart pumping loud in his ears. He thinks vaguely of Singer and his stupid crush and wonders just how it got to be like that with Jon. “But that doesn’t mean you know everything.”
Spencer frowns slightly. “I never said I knew everything.”
Jon shakes his head. “I never said you did either.”
Spencer is confused and surprised when Jon leans in and kisses him.
He doesn’t try to stop it, and it’s not a long kiss as they stand there, Spencer trapped against the countertop in his closed practice, empty except the two of them and the TV in the front office still playing a Disney movie on repeat.
He doesn’t reach for Jon, hands clutched tight to the counter edge, hardly breathing as Jon kisses him slowly, backing off after a second. He’s still close enough to touch and Spencer can feel his warm breath against his bottom lip.
“Spencer?” he asks quietly when Spencer doesn’t move.
He’s too busy thinking over what just happened, how Jon is still too close, how he keeps licking his bottom lip, making it wet and shiny.
“So how about dinner?” Jon repeats, nose brushing against Spencer’s, and Spencer’s eyes flutter shut. His rational side is telling him not to, that Jon is his patient whom he has to work with, but another part - one that sounds suspiciously like Brendon - is telling him that what’s the harm in this? Jon is a nice, mature guy with a good job and a great smile.
“I…” he breathes slowly, feeling Jon’s lips brushing against his skin, nose pressed against his, and he snaps.
Surging forward, he kisses Jon hard, not caring that he’s at work, that he barely knows Jon aside from what he learns every six months at appointments.
Jon doesn’t seem to have a problem with it, hands slipping to Spencer’s waist as he kisses back, pushing him back against the counter and licking into his mouth, letting Spencer bite down on his bottom lip.
“Ow, counter,” Spencer mutters finally, words muffled in Jon’s mouth, but he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t leave the way Jon hums into his mouth, fingers brushing through his hair, sliding down his jaw as he kisses him deeper.
Breaking the kiss finally, just for a shortest second, Spencer doesn’t take the time to really think about what he’s doing as he nudges Jon back, letting Jon duck in for another kiss, hands firm on his waist again as Spencer pushes him back, ending up at the dentist’s chair and the back of his knees against it.
“The chair?” Jon asks with a breathless grin as Spencer pushes him down into it and climbs on top.
“We don’t have to,” he says, licking his lips, knowing he should say it, knowing he shouldn’t be doing this, but Jon shakes his head, pulling him back to his mouth.
“We don’t,” he agrees between kisses, hands reaching for the buttons on Spencer’s coat and pulling them undone. He gets the coat over Spencer’s shoulder before he breaks the kiss again, panting against his cheek, mouth drifting over his skin. “But I want to… I want you.”
Breathing out slowly, Spencer helps Jon push the coat off, revealing his tee shirt underneath. Reaching down, he tugs it over his head before Jon can even pull away from mouthing at his jaw.
“You know, I never thought I’d have such an awesome dentist,” Jon admits as Spencer drops his shirt, settling in on top of Jon.
Spencer doesn’t say that he never thought he’d be making out with Jon in exam room two. Instead, he swallows, eyes drifting down Jon’s body, his soft, cotton tee shirt, faded jeans like he’d gone home and changed from work.
“Never thought I’d want a dentist this badly,” Jon breathes when Spencer is just beginning to doubt this, but then Jon is there, kissing him like they’re not surrounded by tongue depressors and teeth scrapers.
He doesn’t have time to doubt it when Jon’s fingers are fumbling with the zipper to his pants, pulling the button undone, hand running around to his lower back and pushing his hips forward.
“We could,” Jon breathes out against his skin as he pushes up his hips to Spencer’s, and Spencer is having trouble thinking of anything other than Jon’s fingers rubbing against his skin, pushing below the waist of his pants, rubbing up as they sit on the elongated chair.
“Yeah,” Spencer replies, groaning as Jon takes the initiative, pushing up into Spencer. He’s wearing jeans, but Spencer can see, when he breaks away to glance down, that Jon is hard.
He doesn’t say anything as Jon pushes his jeans down, past his thighs where he has to struggle out of them and settle back, helping Jon out of his own clothes.
Jon’s shirt goes easily, flumping down next to Spencer’s, and his jeans take too long for Spencer to get unbuttoned and zipped, tugging them down.
“Come on, Spence,” Jon breathes, and Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard Jon call him that. It sends a shiver down his spine, a simple word tinged with something closer to affection than Spencer has heard in a while from anyone that wasn’t Brendon.
Jon pulls him down when he hesitates too long, mouth pressed against mouth, Jon’s hand tangled in his hair as he kisses him thoroughly, biting at his bottom lip until it’s red and sore, but Spencer doesn’t stop him.
“How,” Spencer mumbles once against Jon’s mouth, but Jon just edges him forward until they’re pressed flush together. Spencer can feel the blood pulsing in his cock, the flush on his skin when Jon arches up, slick skin against skin until Spencer gasps, pushing back, burying his face in Jon’s neck.
“Just like this,” Jon breathes, and Spencer can feel the throb as he bites his lip and grinds down with Jon.
Everything is fuzzy when he thrusts against Jon, hot and heavy, and he can hear the slide of bare skin, the breaths panted into the silence. He searches out Jon’s mouth as Jon’s hand slides between them, wrapping around Spencer’s hard cock and stroking quickly.
“Fuck,” Spencer curses helplessly, fingers gripping Jon’s shoulder tightly and losing himself in Jon’s mouth, Jon’s hand on his prick, the hot flush rising on his skin, coiling in his stomach, until things are hot and sticky and he’s gasping for breath against Jon’s mouth.
Jon bites down on Spencer’s bottom lip as Spencer comes, jerking in his grip and finally relaxing against him.
As Spencer slides down, his mind is fuzzy and he feels content and tired, but Jon is still there, still pressed against him, and Spencer shifts forward, sliding a hand down.
“Fuck, Spence,” Jon breathes when he hand wraps around him. His head falls back against the chair as Spencer moves quickly.
Spencer watches Jon’s face change, the sharp tighten, the quick breath before he comes, eyes opening slowly as he pants for breath. It’s all over too fast, and Spencer hesitates as he takes his hand away, reaching for the roll of paper towels they always keep handy.
Jon doesn’t speak for a moment and neither does Spencer, wiping off his hand and glancing back. Jon’s mouth is red and his eyes are bright, and when he catches Spencer looking, he smiles slowly, pushing himself up so they’re face to face.
“Dinner?” he asks quietly, licking his lips and waiting.
They just practically had sex and Spencer still hesitates. It’s just dinner. With Jon. His patient. When he hesitates, Jon leans in and kisses him slowly, something lingering that makes Spencer think again.
“Dinner,” Jon says again, not a question this time, when he pulls away and Spencer finds himself somehow nodding along.
“Dinner,” he repeats finally, and when Jon smiles, Spencer’s already thinking about cleaning up the chair.
*
Singer troops up the stairs to his apartment, hands full of takeout food as he climbs higher and higher, hating that his building doesn’t have an elevator. It’s past dinner time, but getting up the willpower to get up and get food after a long day at the office is harder than it sounds.
He finally makes it up to his fifth floor apartment and fumbles for his key as he pushes open the door from the stairs to the hallway.
A giggle catches his attention and his head snaps up, landing fifty feet down the hallway where his neighbor has some red-headed girl pressed up against his door.
“Cash!” the girl giggles, pushing at his hands as they stand there, inches from his door, and Singer can feel the annoyance, the flash of jealousy and stupidity, rising up as he stands there. Can’t they just go inside instead of standing in the hallway for everyone to see?
As Singer watches, Cash grins at the girl, that same cocky grin he gives Singer every time he comes into the office.
Huffing, Singer decides he really doesn’t need to watch this as the girl giggles again and Cash’s tongue is down her throat. Instead, he fishes out his key and shoves it into the lock roughly. He hopes vaguely that it doesn’t break as it turns and clicks.
Glancing back before he heads inside, he’s shocked to find Cash watching him, the smile still on his face, but different this time, more of a smirk as Singer frowns and ducks inside as quickly as he can.
Safely inside, he dumps the food on the counter and leans back against it, sighing to himself. Why can’t he have a crush on a guy who’s not straight and who is actually nice? Shaking his head, he returns to his food, digging a fork out of a drawer and cracking open a box of fried rice. He’s about to take a bite when he hears a door slamming out in the hallway and a stereo turning on loud music in the apartment next door.
Groaning, he hopes this doesn’t go all night, but he thinks he hears a vague giggle over the smashing guitars and cringes, grabbing his food and retreating to his bedroom to put on his head phones and trying not to think about just what Cash and the redhead are doing ten feet away.
Part Two.
.
Author: silver_etoile
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jon/Spencer, Frank/Gerard, Cash/Singer (Ryan/Brendon)
POV: Third
Disclaimer: Not true.
Summary: The sign on the door reads Spencer Smith M.D., Family Dentistry. The sign set in nice, neat letters above the door reads Simply Smiles, and Spencer had known that letting his hygienist pick out the name was a bad idea.
A/N: This was originally for BBB wave one, but I wrote something else so it got demoted to regular fic. :] It's been like two months since I posted a fic.. hope you haven't forgotten me, heh.
*
The sign on the door reads Spencer Smith M.D., Family Dentistry. The sign set in nice, neat letters above the door reads Simply Smiles, and Spencer had known that letting his hygienist pick out the name was a bad idea.
“It’s simple, it’s easy to remember, and it’s alliteration!”
Spencer is pretty sure there’s a reason why dentists are supposedly suicidal, and he’s almost positive it has to do with their hygienists.
“Guess who’s coming in today!” Brendon sing-songs as he ducks around the wall partition into where Spencer is busy rearranging the instruments set out on the tray. The mirror just doesn’t go next to the tongue depressor and Brendon never seems to remember that.
Brendon is grinning in that way that makes Spencer want to shove a stick of the sugar-free gum they keep in a basket out on the receptionist’s desk into his mouth so he’ll be quiet.
“Bobby Flahey?” he asks instead, tone disinterested as he nudges the mirror perpendicular to the edge of the tray.
“No,” Brendon says, then pauses. “Well, yes, but no.”
Sighing, Spencer turns, brushing off nonexistent dust from his white coat. He doesn’t have time to play Brendon’s games, not this early in the morning.
Brendon grins when Spencer doesn’t reply.
“Jon Walker.”
“It hasn’t been six months yet,” Spencer says before he can stop himself and takes a second to curse himself as Brendon’s face lights up.
“Aha!”
“What ‘aha’?” Spencer asks skeptically, brushing past him and heading for the front office. The first appointment should already be there, which means Brendon should be at work already, not bothering Spencer in the back rooms.
The front room is bright and sunny, and the small television in the corner is playing some Disney movie for the people waiting. There are only two people there, neither of which are Jon Walker, thank God.
“Bobby Flahey’s here,” Gerard mumbles from behind the desk. He doesn’t look up as Spencer appears in the doorway, just bends over whatever he’s drawing, tracing a long curve over the paper. The computer screen is a spreadsheet of appointments, and Spencer’s eyes are immediately drawn to the one o’clock Jon Walker square, colored in purple for good measure.
“Send him back to room one,” Spencer replies, glancing at Brendon.
Brendon doesn’t move, still grinning at Spencer. “You remember Jon, right?” he asks, and Spencer ignores him, or tries to, as he turns from the door and heads into the back corridors. “The really hot advertising exec?”
“He’s head of art design not an exec,” Spencer corrects automatically and cringes as Brendon grins.
“You totally like him!” he declares, and Spencer rolls his eyes. “I bet you even know when he came in last, don’t you? It was a Wednesday, right? ‘Cause those are the only ones he can take off early, and you know it, don’t you?”
“Don’t you have to work to do?” Spencer snaps finally, hating that Brendon is right. Of course Jon last came in on a Wednesday. It was cold that day, the first snow of the season happened that night. Spencer remembers watching it through the window in his living room, replaying Jon’s smile.
Brendon bounces, and if the gum weren’t sugar-free, Spencer would accuse him of stealing some. He already knows that Mikey does when he comes to visit Gerard. He wouldn’t be surprised if Brendon does too.
“So are you gonna ask him out finally?” Brendon asks, ignoring that it’s half-past ten and Bobby Flahey should already be strapped to a chair, his mouth wide open.
“No,” Spencer replies obviously as he stops in the doorway to his office. “I’m going to do my job like you should be doing right now.”
Brendon isn’t affected at all. “You should ask him out,” he says sagely as though he has any authority on the matter. “Or someone else will, and then you’ll say, ‘Now, why didn’t I listen to Brendon? He’s always right, and handsome too.’”
“Remind me again why I keep you around?” Spencer asks, hands on his hips, and Brendon pauses.
“Because I’m your best friend and I’m the only hygienist you have, and because I’m the only one who can get kids to stop crying when you tell them they’re going to get cavities and die.”
“Well, they are,” Spencer grumbles.
Brendon pats his head, ignoring the glare he gets. “You should ask Jon out today. It might be another six months before you see him again, and then what? You keep waiting and he’ll get all old, and I mean, he’s still really nice, but you can’t wait forever.”
Spencer glares. “I hope Bobby bites you.” Turning, he leaves Brendon in the hall calling after him.
“I bet Jon would bite if you asked nicely!”
The door to the office slams shut and Brendon merely shrugs, heading off to the reception area to start the day.
*
The front office is neatly organized with the front door opening up to an airy waiting room, magazines tucked into the rack by the chairs and a little area for the kids in the corner, sunk down about a foot from the rest of the floor complete with a TV eternally playing Disney movies at a low volume and some toys scattered on the floor.
The walls are a plain white, a few photographs and posters stuck up behind the waiting chairs and behind the reception desk.
The reception desk is tall, almost too tall so that Gerard always has to look up when he’s sitting in the chair and someone new comes in. The bell on the door always warns him ahead of time but he doesn’t usually bother acknowledging a presence until their bodies throw a shadow over his drawings.
“Do you ever actually do work?”
Mikey’s voice interrupts Gerard’s furtive attempts at ignoring whoever just came in the door, which was apparently Mikey.
“Do you?” Gerard replies, not glancing up and doodling a dragon on the corner of his paper.
Mikey shrugs, leaning against the counter and glancing around the waiting room. There are only a few people flipping uninterestedly through the magazines and glancing at the clock on the wall. Turning back, he flicks vaguely through the little basket of sugar-free gum perched on the countertop. He doesn’t take one, though.
“Slow day?” he asks and Gerard grunts vaguely. His life isn’t exactly full of excitement, working as a receptionist at a dentists’ office.
It’s quiet in the office except whatever movie is playing and Gerard has no desire to disrupt that at all. Spencer had already seemed to be in a surly mood since that morning and Gerard is content to leave him alone.
“Want to take me out to lunch?” Mikey asks finally and Gerard’s eyes flick up briefly.
“It’s only eleven in the morning.”
“Lunch time in polite societies,” Mikey replies, pushing up his glasses and blinking at Gerard as though it should make sense, and it does to some degree when he remembers that this is Mikey, his little brother who spends his days playing video games for a living.
“I can’t,” he mutters instead.
Mikey watches him for a second before arching an eyebrow and plucking a pack of gum from the basket.
*
“If you didn’t smoke or drink so much coffee, your teeth would be whiter,” Spencer says as he slides his chair back, reaching for the fluoride.
“Oh, come on,” Frank says good-naturedly, lying back and staring at the bright light shining in his face. “I saw that pot of coffee in the front office.
“That’s Gerard’s, not mine,” Spencer replies. “Lie back.” He pushes Frank’s head back.
“Re’ey?” Franks asks, mouth open as Spencer puts in the fluoride.
“Yes, now stop talking and don’t swallow.”
Frank falls silent, staring up at the light again while Spencer leaves the room for a minute. The room is hospital white and there’s some filtered music playing distantly in the background as he sits there, waiting. It isn’t long before Spencer is back and taking the fluoride out, handing Frank the little sucking vacuum.
“So Gerard drinks coffee?” Frank asks once his mouth is relatively dry.
“Yes,” Spencer says. “Rinse.”
Spencer doesn’t really mind talking to his patients, but Frank comes for a cleaning way more often than is really necessary, and he tends to focus the conversation on one thing the whole time. However, talking to Frank is helping to distract from the fact that it’s nearly twelve, which means it’s nearly one, which means that Jon will be there soon.
“You’re all done,” Spencer says finally and Frank struggles up from the chair, taking off the little bib and stuffing it in the trash.
“Hey,” Frank says before he leaves and Spencer starts to clean up. “How do you kiss someone after knowing about all the crazy things in their mouths?”
Surprised, Spencer pauses. “I guess you just try to ignore that.”
“Huh.” Frank looks thoughtful for a second and then shrugs. “I’ll see you later, Dr. Smith.”
Spencer nods slowly. “Feel free to pick up some gum on your way out.”
Frank grins. “Oh, I will.”
He leaves and Spencer resumes his tidying and reminds himself not to think about kissing anyone. When he’s done, he heads down the hall to check on his next appointment and he isn’t really surprised when he runs into Brendon and Singer, the kid he’s supposed to be mentoring, or rather, his dental assistant student who’s doing his required work study.
“What are you doing?” he asks tiredly, already fearing the answer as Singer’s eyes dart to him and Brendon straightens up.
“Singer’s crush is here and he’s afraid to go in.
“I don’t have a crush,” Singer tries to argue, but Spencer arches an eyebrow.
“You mean his asshole neighbor?”
“That’s the one,” Brendon says, peeking around and trying to see into the exam room.
“Be quiet!” Singer hisses, cheeks pink. “He might hear you!”
“Which part? The crush or the asshole?”
“Both!” Singer looks distressed as he tugs at the hem of his pink scrubs - Brendon insists pink makes the patients feel better. Spencer thinks they just look stupid.
Rolling his eyes, Spencer gives Singer a push. “Go do your job. Personal feelings shouldn’t get in the way of work. He’s just another patient.”
Singer still looks nervous, but he nods and steels himself before heading inside the room.
“Not get in the way of work, huh?” Brendon asks as Spencer turns and continues on his intended path from earlier. “Just another patient? Is Jon just another patient?”
“Don’t start,” Spencer cuts him off. After all, Spencer isn’t an inexperienced twenty-two year old like Singer. He’s almost thirty - well, he’s got a couple years left, but the thought is not encouraging as he strides down the hallway, Brendon trailing after him.
“But he’s coming in today and what if he finally has met someone who wasn’t too afraid to ask him out?”
“I’m not afraid,” Spencer snaps and then huffs. “What I mean is, I’m not interested, alright?”
Brendon gives him a knowing look as Spencer opens the door to his office, hoping to shake him off, but it has never worked, and Brendon follows him inside.
“But you’re getting old! You need to find someone to settle down with.”
Spencer glares. “We’re the same age. You’re older even.”
Brendon ignores him, rounding the desk when Spencer slides down into his chair. It’s almost time for lunch and he’ll have a whole hour to obsess over the fact that Jon is coming and he has a great smile.
“You need someone to love.”
Unimpressed, Spencer’s eyes narrow at Brendon.
“You need someone to put up with your bitch face,” Brendon offers cheerfully and Spencer tells himself that he’s known Brendon ten years and killing him now would just be a waste. And after all, he thinks he’s helping Spencer while really he’s just driving him crazy.
“Get out,” Spencer orders. “Go clean rooms two and three until they shine or something.”
Brendon shakes his head hopelessly. “Jon Walker isn’t impressed by cleanliness.”
“Out” Spencer orders again with a glare and Brendon concedes.
“Fine, fine, but if you don’t ask him out, I’m gonna do it for you.”
Spencer will kill him if he does, but he’s leaving and that’s all that matters at the moment. As the door closes behind him, Spencer lets his head fall onto the desk as he groans.
*
Mikey is chewing on his gum slowly, not attempting to blow bubbles, and Gerard ignores him, closing out the appointment list and glancing at the clock. It’s nearly lunchtime and he’ll probably let Mikey convince him to go out instead of eating his sad little lunch in the back.
He sees Mikey straighten up out of the corner of his eye and he pauses carefully.
“Hey, Mikey.” A familiar voice rings out and Gerard freezes. He can already feel Mikey’s eyes on him as he sits there, reaching for a stack of papers and reorganizing them uselessly.
“Frank,” Mikey says calmly, folding up his gum wrapper and tucking it in his pocket.
“Hi, Gerard,” Frank greets him with a grin, teeth freshly cleaned.
“Hi,” Gerard mutters, shuffling through the papers as Frank picks out a packet of gum.
“So you like coffee?” Frank asks, eyes straying to the half-empty pot sitting in a back corner of the reception area.
“He lives on coffee,” Mikey offers unhelpfully and Gerard isn’t sure if he should be annoyed at him or not.
“Me too,” Frank replies, bouncing up. He’s just slightly taller than the counter. He grins at Gerard, and Gerard doesn’t smile back, just blinks stupidly up at him. After a second, Frank rocks back down on his heels and smiles at Mikey. “I guess I should get back to work.”
Mikey glances at Gerard, who busies himself with the computer.
“I’ll call for my next appointment,” he says and Gerard looks up once his back is turned and he’s halfway out the door.
“What was that?” Mikey asks as the bell stops ringing and Gerard glances at him.
“What?”
“Frank sure gets his teeth cleaned a lot,” Mikey comments. “He even knows my name.”
“He’s a promoter. He’s supposed to be personable and remember shit like that.”
“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t come here just for the free gum,” he points out and Gerard frowns, eyes darting to the basket. “He practically asked you out on a date.”
“He did not,” Gerard argues, tossing the papers aside and reaching for the coffee pot.
Mikey watches him pour the last of the coffee into his cup and Gerard can practically feel the eye roll. “Your common love of coffee? He was asking you out.”
“He was not,” Gerard insists firmly, but Mikey shakes his head, pushing up his glasses again.
“How many times has he had his teeth cleaned in the past year?”
“I don’t know,” Gerard mutters, bristling slightly. He doesn’t need his little brother setting him up or butting into his personal life.
“I’ve seen him at least three times,” Mikey puts in and Gerard stubbornly doesn’t reply. What does it matter how often Frank comes in? Mikey casts him a glance. “You have his phone number. You should call him.”
“And ask him when his next appointment is?” Gerard deadpans, and Mikey shrugs.
“Or tell him you’re an idiot and invite him for coffee.”
“I am not,” Gerard grumbles. “And I have plenty of coffee.”
“But you don’t have Frank,” Mikey points out and Gerard just looks at the clock again.
*
It’s one o’clock all too soon and lunch is over. Spencer waits in his office after the clock hits one, knowing that Jon is probably already there and laughing with Brendon about something. Jon is always on time.
He’s being stupid, he tells himself, as he rises from the chair and shrugs on his white coat over his tee shirt. Doing up the buttons slowly, he reminds himself that he is a professional dentist and Jon is just another patient… who happens to have a great smile and a nice laugh.
“Spencer.” Brendon appears at the doorway just as he’s about to leave, sticking his head in and nearly hitting him.
“What?” Spencer asks, annoyed and stumbling back.
“Jon’s ready.”
“Great,” Spencer mutters, brushing his coat straight and stepping out. Brendon is grinning at him but Spencer ignores him. “Isn’t there someone else scheduled?”
“Yep,” Brendon replies simply, bouncing away when they reach Jon’s room.
He’s just another patient, Spencer tells himself as he heads in, seeing Jon reclined in the chair, flip flops dangling off the edge. He tilts back when Spencer enters and grins. Spencer blinks but keeps going.
“Dr. Smith,” Jon says slowly, “how is the world of dentistry today?”
“Screwy,” Spencer mutters, trying to ignore the way his stomach flutters dangerously as Jon’s grin widens.
“Did you get bitten?”
“No,” he mutters, sliding his chair up and sitting down next to Jon. He distracts himself by putting on his gloves. “So it hasn’t been six months,” he says as he repositions the light above Jon. His gaze strays to Jon’s feet, his toes wiggling in his flip flops. Shaking himself, he pulls his eyes away as Jon answers.
“Yeah, but my back left molar has been feeling weird so I figured I’d come by. Besides, we don’t see enough of each other, don’t you think?”
“I guess,” Spencer allows slowly, catching Jon’s eye for a second before he pulls away. “Open your mouth and we’ll take a look.”
Spencer is vaguely aware that everything he says as a dentist could be misconstrued as some sort of innuendo, as Brendon likes to frequently do, but it’s his job. He’s not entirely sure that other people aren’t thinking the same thing, though, especially when Jon bites back a smile and does as he’s told.
Ignoring Jon watching him, Spencer tries to go through the procedure normally. He peers into Jon’s mouth, eyes darting to the rough stubble on his cheeks for a second before he refocuses.
“I found the problem,” he says as he moves back, removing the tongue depressor from Jon’s mouth and Jon watches him. “You have a cavity.”
“What?” Jon asks. “That’s not possible.”
Spencer shrugs. “Well, you do. It’s not that bad, though. It’s a good thing you came in now.”
“Yeah?” Jon asks, and he’s smiling again and Spencer falters.
“Uh, yeah,” he says, putting away the mirror. “We can just do a simple filling and you’ll be in and out in no time.”
“Great,” Jon agrees, struggling to sit up. Spencer presses the button and the chair slides up suddenly, throwing Jon face to face with Spencer.
Spencer swallows for a second and blinks at Jon. “Sorry,” he breathes, sliding his chair back quickly, and Jon pauses, watching him go.
“When can I see you again?”
“What?” Spencer asks quickly, fumbling with his gloves as he pulls them off.
“For the filling,” Jon continues, sliding over to sit sideways in the chair.
“You can talk to Gerard,” Spencer replies, already cleaning up even though Jon hasn’t moved from the chair. He sort of wishes he would because then he could pretend that his stomach isn’t fluttering nervously every time Jon looks at him. “He’ll set it up.”
Jon nods slowly. “Can I ask you something?”
Spencer pauses carefully. “Sure.”
“Why did you want to be a dentist?”
Throwing the tools in the sanitizer, Spencer pauses. “I like smiles.”
Jon is quiet for a second and then his mouth curves. “So do I.”
Spencer isn’t really sure what to say to that, but Jon continues, sliding off the chair and standing up. Spencer stands too because he hates sitting when others are standing around him. Jon pauses next to him, eyes taking in his perfectly white coat.
“I like your smile.”
Spencer’s heart jumps into his throat, and he can hear the thud in his ears. Jon isn’t smiling now and Spencer stalls for words. In the end, he takes a stumbling step back, running into the cabinet while Jon watches.
“Gerard can set you up with an appointment for the filling,” he says quickly, hating that his palms are sweating when nothing has even happened.
Jon pauses, giving him a curious look, but in the end he shrugs. “Okay. I’ll be seeing you soon then.”
“Sure,” Spencer replies, too cheerfully, holding the door open for Jon as he heads back to the front.
Once he’s gone, he hits himself in the head, annoyed. He’s so stupid. He’s never going to tell Brendon about this or he’ll be poked until he actually does ask Jon out.
The problem with asking Jon out is that Jon is his client, and there’s a strict code of ethics against doctor-patient relations. Brendon doesn’t seem to understand that. He’s all for setting people up no matter what’s in the way.
Sinking onto the patient chair, Spencer groans to himself. Maybe he should just take Brendon’s advice, but then, he thinks, when has Brendon ever had sound advice? Almost never.
Instead, he pushes the light away uninterestedly and watches as it swings back, a circle of light jiggling over the floor.
*
It’s past midnight and Alex is awake. He shouldn’t be awake because he has to work in the morning, has to be at the office by nine because he and Brendon have prep work to do, but he is awake, and he knows exactly why.
He lies in bed in the darkness, staring at the splattering of moonlight across the ceiling and listening to the thud of music seeping in through the wall in the next-door apartment. He can’t hear the words, but it’s loud enough that he can hear the key changes, the thump of the base, the strum of the guitar ripping through the thin plaster.
He knows exactly who’s on the other side of that door too - his ‘asshole neighbor’ as Dr. Smith would say.
It’s almost one in the morning and he can’t sleep for the noise pulsing in his ears. This isn’t anything new, which makes it all the more worse for Alex as he lies there, wide awake.
Groaning, he rolls over, reaching up to bang on the wall a few times, hoping that maybe, in some alternate universe, that will help and stupid Cash Colligan will turn down his stereo and go to sleep like normal people do.
He waits a second, listening for a drop in volume, but nothing happens. He bangs one more time before grabbing his pillow and stuffing it over his head, cursing hot guys with no consideration for anyone else.
*
“Date me, Ryan Ross.”
“No,” Ryan says, pushing the letters into the box and ignoring Brendon and his pink scrubs.
“You should say yes,” Brendon replies simply, and Ryan recloses his mail bag and considers Brendon.
“No.”
“Kiss me, Ryan Ross,” Brendon says instead, and Ryan readjusts his blue hat on his messy brown hair. He sends Brendon a look.
“No.”
“Do you know any words other than no?” Brendon asks as Ryan turns to head back to his truck.
“No,” Ryan replies, climbing inside, and Brendon watches him pull away. Shrugging, he goes back inside the office, the bell ringing in his wake.
Gerard is in his place behind the desk, doodling in his sketchbook instead of answering the phones or filing patient’s records.
“Mail’s here,” Brendon says, tossing it on the counter.
“He say yes?” Gerard asks without looking up, charcoal curving around the edge of the dragon’s back. His fingers are smudged with black and there are marks on his cheek too. Spencer hadn’t said anything when he’d passed by earlier, only given him a look and muttered something about professionalism and why didn’t his staff have any.
“No,” Brendon says, echoing Ryan’s answer.
“Why do you keep asking then?” Gerard mutters to his paper, rubbing the charcoal in.
“Someday he’ll say yes, maybe,” Brendon replies. “Can’t say yes if I don’t ask.”
Gerard makes a vague noise as the phone rings again and he deflates slightly.
“We should get back to work before Spencer has a heart attack,” Brendon offers, tapping the mail against the counter and disappearing into the back.
Sighing, Gerard reaches for the phone.
“Thank you for calling Simply Smiles, Dr. Spencer Smith family dentistry.”
“Gerard?”
It’s not Mikey, and it’s not Singer, even though he’s late to work. Gerard pauses.
“Yes?” he replies uncertainly.
“Hey, it’s Frank.”
Oh.
“Uh, hi, Frank,” Gerard says after a second. “Are you calling to schedule another appointment?”
“No,” Frank says slowly, and Gerard pauses. “I’m calling to ask what your favorite kind of coffee is.”
“Why?” Gerard doesn’t understand, and he can hear the pause on the other end of the phone. That’s the bad thing with being the receptionist. He has to answer phones and get all the awkward pauses.
“Because it’s the one question I’m pretty sure you’ll answer, and I gotta work my way up.”
“Up to what?” Gerard asks, confused, but Frank makes a noise.
“Uh-uh. So what’s your favorite kind of coffee?”
“Uhm.” Gerard forestalls. “Black, no sugar, no milk.”
“Okay,” Frank says, and Gerard can hear the smile in his voice. “Thanks.”
The line goes dead and Gerard hangs up his end slowly. Glancing back at his coffee pot, he frowns and thinks that he needs a cigarette.
*
I like your smile.
The words are resonating in his head and Spencer can’t get rid of them. They’re there when he goes to sleep, there when he gets up, there when he looks at the tongue depressor. They’re everywhere.
Spencer doesn’t know what to do. He’s not a stupid teenager. It shouldn’t be this much trouble now that’s he’s older and has more important things to worry about other than getting his braces stuck when he kisses someone or losing his retainer. Now he has to worry about doctor-patient relationships and keeping Brendon away from calling Jon up and setting up a date behind his back.
“You didn’t ask him out, did you?” Brendon asks, leaning against the doorframe while Spencer goes through papers on his desk.
Glancing up through his reading glasses, Spencer arches an eyebrow. “He said no, didn’t he?”
Brendon rolls his eyes, coming inside and shutting the door behind him. He plops down in the second chair across from Spencer, picking at the nameplate at the edge. He turns it over in his hands and slaps it against his palm.
“Will you stop?” Spencer asks, reaching out, but Brendon pulls it back.
“Will you ask him out?”
“Stop that,” Spencer says, annoyed, but Brendon leans forward.
“You started it. And besides, I do it because I love you.”
“You do it to annoy me,” Spencer shoots back. “Now give it.”
“Not this,” Brendon says obviously, handing over the plate. “Jon.”
“What about Jon?” Spencer asks, rolling his eyes. He has work to do and Brendon should too. They don’t exactly have an empty practice out there.
“You didn’t ask him out!” Brendon exclaims and Spencer sighs in frustration.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, you should!”
“No, Brendon,” Spencer replies, annoyed. “I should do my job and you should do yours, and Jon should come every six months like he’s supposed to.”
Brendon isn’t deterred. He frowns at Spencer. “But you could see him every day.”
“I see you every day but that doesn’t mean I like you.”
“You wound me, Spencer Smith,” Brendon says, clutching at his chest overdramatically as Spencer rises from his chair, tossing his glasses down and rounding the desk.
“Yeah, yeah,” Spencer replies, giving Brendon a push towards the door. “Why don’t you actually go do work?”
Brendon sends him a skeptical look as he’s shoved towards the door. “By the way, Singer just got here.”
“Good,” Spencer says, shoving Brendon out the door. “Now go work.”
Brendon gives a mock salute as he vanishes into one of the patient rooms.
Wandering through the small maze of white hallways, Spencer finds Singer sucking on a mug of coffee like a lifeline in the back.
Stopping before him, Spencer’s hands go to his hips and Singer looks up, a guilty expression on his face.
“It’s not my fault,” he says immediately, and Spencer doesn’t reply. “You remember my neighbor?”
“The guy with the dollar sign tattooed on his arm who thinks fluoride is fun to swallow?”
“That was an accident… I think,” Singer mutters. “But yeah, him. Cash.”
“What about him?” Spencer asks tiredly. There are only so many excuses he can accept, and it isn’t as though Singer is late very often anyway.
“He plays his music really loud at god awful hours of the morning and I can’t sleep, so I sort of slept through my alarm this morning because I was awake listening to punk rock music all night,” Singer blurts in one big breath, hoping he’s not about to get into a ton of trouble.
“Why didn’t you just ask him to turn it down?” Spencer asks obviously and Singer hesitates.
“I banged on the wall,” he offers slowly, quailing under Spencer’s glare. “I can’t ask him.”
“Why not?” Spencer demands. Singer hides behind his coffee cup.
Singer has only been working for Spencer for about six months, just long enough to run into his neighbor twice outside of the hallway. He’s known his neighbor since he moved in, and by known he means, he’s seen him a few times coming in and out of his apartment with different girls on each occasion and knows his taste in music very well.
Singer just wants to get through his work study alive. When he first came to work for Spencer, he’d been terrified of making a mistake, and the day Brendon caught him singing in the supply room, he’d nearly died, but Brendon had just started calling him Singer and he’d managed to stay afloat, but with Spencer giving him that look right now, hands on his hips, he doesn’t think he’s going to survive much longer.
“I can’t actually talk to him,” Singer says finally.
“You talk to him here all the time.”
“I ask him if he flosses,” Singer replies. “I don’t tell him to stop sleeping around and turn down the music.”
“Maybe you should,” Spencer says, annoyed. “And be on time to work.”
Singer nods quickly, glad when Spencer turns at Brendon’s voice, calling him to a room.
*
Jon Walker is scheduled as the last appointment on Friday afternoon, although it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference considering the clinic is closed on Mondays and Thursdays. It’s hardly a weekend for Spencer, but he spends the whole week dreading it.
He spends the day distracting himself with other patients. He cleans teeth, fixes a broken brace, pulls an infected tooth, and tells himself that after work, he’ll go see a movie as a reward. He listens to Gerard on the phone, answering in a confused tone that he doesn’t like romantic comedies - he likes horror movies. Spencer doesn’t hear the end of the conversation but he’s pretty sure he knows who was calling.
By the time four thirty rolls around, all the rest of the patients have been taken care of and Spencer peeks into the waiting room to find Jon there, flipping uninterestedly through a copy of Cosmo magazine from the rack. Gerard is behind the desk as usual, using the computer to check on new releases of comics instead of doing any work, and Spencer makes a quick decision as he hovers in the doorway.
“Gerard,” he says, coming out, and Gerard doesn’t even make a show of shutting the internet windows, just leaves them open as he glances over. “You can go home. I’ll finish up tonight.”
Gerard stares at him for a second but Spencer doesn’t fidget, and eventually, Gerard pushes the remaining papers on the desk into a pile and grabs his coat off the back of the chair.
“See you tomorrow,” Spencer says as Gerard pulls on his jacket and nods vaguely.
Singer is already gone and Brendon is setting up for Jon’s appointment in the back, so Spencer turns to Jon in the waiting room. Jon has already tossed down the magazine and smiles when Spencer meets his eyes.
“Room two,” Spencer says, a little jerkily, and Jon rises, following Spencer back.
“You guys are open tomorrow?” Jon asks as they walk the short ways to the exam room.
“Yeah,” Spencer replies simply, avoiding looking back at Jon as they reach the room and he holds the door open for him. “We’re busiest on weekends.”
“It must suck, though,” Jon says as he goes in ahead of Spencer and Brendon beams at him from by the chair, where he’s finishing the set-up. “Not having two days off in a row.”
Spencer shrugs and Jon sits down in the chair. Brendon nudges Spencer in the ribs, and Spencer glares momentarily. “But I get to sleep in on the most-hated day of the week.”
“True.” Jon laughs, and Spencer looks away to Brendon.
“Bren, you don’t have to stick around. You can head home. I can take care of things tonight.”
“I bet you can.” Brendon grins obviously, glancing over to where Jon is settling into the chair, feet and flip flops dangling over the edge.
Spencer doesn’t reply except to frown disapprovingly at Brendon’s wiggling eyebrows. He has no intention of doing anything other than professional with Jon, his patient.
“Go home, Brendon,” he orders, and Brendon still grins.
“Sure thing, Doctor.” He turns to Jon, who is now watching them curiously. “Bye, Jon. Good luck.”
As Brendon leaves, Spencer rolls his eyes to himself. Sometimes he wishes he just had a normal hygienist like the girls when he’d done his work study. Greta never asked about his love life.
“He’s not exactly your normal hygienist, is he?” Jon asks as Spencer heads for the sink, washing his hands thoroughly.
“Not exactly,” he mutters, thinking back on the first time he’d ever met Brendon, nearly ten years ago in undergrad. He’d walked into his brand new dorm and found some kid he’d never seen before poking through his boxes to see what he’d brought. Needless to say, it had been a rocky start, but Brendon had grown on him, or rather, attached himself to him and refused to let go.
“He said something earlier about your aversion to sugar-free gum,” Jon says as Spencer pulls on his white gloves and frowns back at him.
“Do you always talk about your dentist to the hygienist?” Spencer asks calmly, although his heart is creeping up when Jon smiles at him.
“He said it, not me.” Jon shifts in the chair, glancing up at the pristine ceiling. “Besides, shouldn’t dentists be all about sugar-free stuff? I mean, that’s all you’ve got in the basket.”
Spencer snaps on his second glove and sinks down into the chair next to Jon. “Sometimes you just need sugar to make things taste decent,” he replies. “Although don’t tell Brendon I said that or he’ll think it’s an excuse to drink Red Bull and those things rot your teeth.”
Jon laughs, but Spencer is busy with the tools, trying to ignore him and remind himself that in about five minutes, Jon won’t be able to talk. He has work to do after all, instead of discussing his like or dislike of sugar.
“I’m going to numb your mouth,” he says, pulling out the shot, and Jon gives it an uneasy look.
“Ouch, they don’t tell you about this when you’re five and your mom bribes you with candy to go see the dentist.”
“It’s not that bad,” Spencer assures him, pushing Jon’s head gently back against the chair, not pausing as his fingers brush against the stubble on his chin. “It’ll be fine in about half an hour usually.”
“Alright,” Jon agrees slowly, glancing at Spencer and biting his lip. “But you better not do anything unprofessional while I can’t feel my mouth.”
Spencer stops for a second and even Jon pauses.
“Never mind,” he says with a laugh and Spencer jerks himself away from where his mind had momentarily flickered, eyes landing on Jon’s mouth and forcing himself back to work.
“This really shouldn’t take long,” Spencer mutters as he scoots his chair closer to Jon. “You can just sit back and relax.”
“Do you ever talk to people while you do this?” Jon asks and Spencer frowns slightly. “You should make this more fun and talk to me.”
“About what?” Spencer replies uneasily. There’s not a lot that he has to say to his patients aside from asking the obligatory questions about family and life, the little bits he remembers from previous visits. When it comes to actual conversation beyond that he’s not very good at it, and Jon is looking up at him expectantly.
“I don’t know.” Jon shrugs awkwardly in the chair. “Anything.”
“Right,” Spencer mutters as he gives Jon the numbing shot and starts the work. “Uh. I think my entire office is going crazy. Maybe it’s like spring fever or something.”
Jon just looks up at him as Spencer works, not replying but waiting.
“Gerard’s getting weird calls from I think Frank, who hasn’t actually asked him out yet, but Gerard is pretty clueless, so maybe he did and Gerard didn’t even notice. And then there’s Singer who’s got a huge crush on his asshole neighbor who probably doesn’t even know he exists. So when he’s late to work, I know who to blame, but that doesn’t make it any better.”
Spencer falls silent as he thinks about his staff and how much he wishes sometimes he could have normal people working for him. Instead he’s got a hygienist determined to set him up, a work study kid late because of some guy he can’t even talk to, and a receptionist too wrapped up in his own world of dragons and vampires to realize the guy who gets his teeth cleaned once a month wants to buy him those dragons and vampires.
Filling work is always one of the easiest things to do, which Spencer is glad for because he’s got Jon lying out on the chair, toes tapping to some invisible beat, watching him work silently.
“When I was doing my work study, I worked with this doctor who was dating his hygienist, which was really kind of weird. I kept waiting for them to break up and ruin the practice.”
He sighs, adjusting his mask while Jon waits quietly.
The rest of the office is silent around them, empty of people, and Spencer knows all he has to do after this is clean up and put together a few last reports before he can go home for the night, before he can leave Jon’s smile behind and await the next appointment six months down the road.
“Almost done,” he murmurs about half an hour later and Jon looks up at him patiently.
The filling is done and ready a few moments later and Spencer pulls off his mask, tossing it away.
“You’re all set. Can you feel your mouth?”
Jon pushes himself up slowly, feeling his jaw. “It’s a little tingly,” he says thoughtfully.
“It might be like that for a while,” Spencer warns him. “But otherwise, just don’t eat anything hard in the next twenty-four hours and you should be fine. And brush your teeth more.”
“How do you know this wasn’t just a fluke?” Jon asks as Spencer stands up, beginning to clean up the room. “I mean, maybe the teeth gods are just mad at me because I spend my life marketing sugar-filled drinks to children?”
“Teeth karma?” Spencer asks skeptically and Jon grins, licking his lips.
“Why not? I brush, a lot. What other explanation could there be?”
Spencer laughs but it’s more of a scoff. “That your teeth aren’t as strong as you thought. I mean, as you get older, they get weaker.”
“I am not that old,” Jon argues simply, and he still hasn’t gotten up off the chair while Spencer puts everything away. “I’m just mature, like a fine wine, you know? It gets better with age.”
Spencer can’t help smiling, but he hides it as he turns off the sanitizer and puts the tools away. Glancing back at Jon, he pauses.
Jon is sitting on the chair, feet a little too short to reach the ground, and he meets Spencer’s eye before sliding off and coming around the little chair, pushing it off to the side.
“Spencer,” he says slowly and Spencer pauses, shutting the drawer behind him carefully and turning to Jon. “What are you doing next Saturday night?”
“I don’t know,” Spencer replies slowly. “Watching the Golden Girls and having a slumber party?”
Jon smiles and Spencer takes a step back, running into the square corner of the counter and watching as Jon doesn’t move.
“How about dinner instead?”
“With you?” Spencer asks stupidly because of course Jon means with him, and it’s obvious when Jon laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he nods.
“With me,” he confirms.
It comes out before Spencer even really thinks about it.
“Look, Jon, I really shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” Jon tilts his head to the side and takes a step forward. “It’s just dinner.”
“It’s not just dinner,” Spencer replies, hands curling around the edge of the counter as Jon comes closer. “It’s a… date.”
“So?” Jon smiles slowly. “You’re not averse to those too, right?”
“No, it’s just-”
“What happened to that dentist who dated his hygienist?” Jon interrupts, looking into Spencer’s eyes as they stand there, suspended in some sort of weird moment, surrounded by an empty office and a darkening sky outside.
“I don’t know,” Spencer says, “I think they got married or something but-”
“Married, Spencer,” Jon repeats, crowding in closer despite Spencer leaning back.
He can smell Jon’s aftershave this close, faded in the afternoon, can almost feel the soft cotton of his shirt pressing against him. Swallowing, he’s not sure if anything happened he’d have the strength to push Jon away.
Spencer would never tell Brendon, but he’s definitely pictured Jon in situations other than professional, and they usually didn’t involve shirts or white lab coats.
“I’m just asking for dinner,” Jon murmurs. “Just a meal with you and with me.”
“Jon,” Spencer tries to say, tries to tell him, but Jon shakes his head.
“You may have a doctorate,” Jon says, and he’s too close now, and Spencer can feel his heart pumping loud in his ears. He thinks vaguely of Singer and his stupid crush and wonders just how it got to be like that with Jon. “But that doesn’t mean you know everything.”
Spencer frowns slightly. “I never said I knew everything.”
Jon shakes his head. “I never said you did either.”
Spencer is confused and surprised when Jon leans in and kisses him.
He doesn’t try to stop it, and it’s not a long kiss as they stand there, Spencer trapped against the countertop in his closed practice, empty except the two of them and the TV in the front office still playing a Disney movie on repeat.
He doesn’t reach for Jon, hands clutched tight to the counter edge, hardly breathing as Jon kisses him slowly, backing off after a second. He’s still close enough to touch and Spencer can feel his warm breath against his bottom lip.
“Spencer?” he asks quietly when Spencer doesn’t move.
He’s too busy thinking over what just happened, how Jon is still too close, how he keeps licking his bottom lip, making it wet and shiny.
“So how about dinner?” Jon repeats, nose brushing against Spencer’s, and Spencer’s eyes flutter shut. His rational side is telling him not to, that Jon is his patient whom he has to work with, but another part - one that sounds suspiciously like Brendon - is telling him that what’s the harm in this? Jon is a nice, mature guy with a good job and a great smile.
“I…” he breathes slowly, feeling Jon’s lips brushing against his skin, nose pressed against his, and he snaps.
Surging forward, he kisses Jon hard, not caring that he’s at work, that he barely knows Jon aside from what he learns every six months at appointments.
Jon doesn’t seem to have a problem with it, hands slipping to Spencer’s waist as he kisses back, pushing him back against the counter and licking into his mouth, letting Spencer bite down on his bottom lip.
“Ow, counter,” Spencer mutters finally, words muffled in Jon’s mouth, but he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t leave the way Jon hums into his mouth, fingers brushing through his hair, sliding down his jaw as he kisses him deeper.
Breaking the kiss finally, just for a shortest second, Spencer doesn’t take the time to really think about what he’s doing as he nudges Jon back, letting Jon duck in for another kiss, hands firm on his waist again as Spencer pushes him back, ending up at the dentist’s chair and the back of his knees against it.
“The chair?” Jon asks with a breathless grin as Spencer pushes him down into it and climbs on top.
“We don’t have to,” he says, licking his lips, knowing he should say it, knowing he shouldn’t be doing this, but Jon shakes his head, pulling him back to his mouth.
“We don’t,” he agrees between kisses, hands reaching for the buttons on Spencer’s coat and pulling them undone. He gets the coat over Spencer’s shoulder before he breaks the kiss again, panting against his cheek, mouth drifting over his skin. “But I want to… I want you.”
Breathing out slowly, Spencer helps Jon push the coat off, revealing his tee shirt underneath. Reaching down, he tugs it over his head before Jon can even pull away from mouthing at his jaw.
“You know, I never thought I’d have such an awesome dentist,” Jon admits as Spencer drops his shirt, settling in on top of Jon.
Spencer doesn’t say that he never thought he’d be making out with Jon in exam room two. Instead, he swallows, eyes drifting down Jon’s body, his soft, cotton tee shirt, faded jeans like he’d gone home and changed from work.
“Never thought I’d want a dentist this badly,” Jon breathes when Spencer is just beginning to doubt this, but then Jon is there, kissing him like they’re not surrounded by tongue depressors and teeth scrapers.
He doesn’t have time to doubt it when Jon’s fingers are fumbling with the zipper to his pants, pulling the button undone, hand running around to his lower back and pushing his hips forward.
“We could,” Jon breathes out against his skin as he pushes up his hips to Spencer’s, and Spencer is having trouble thinking of anything other than Jon’s fingers rubbing against his skin, pushing below the waist of his pants, rubbing up as they sit on the elongated chair.
“Yeah,” Spencer replies, groaning as Jon takes the initiative, pushing up into Spencer. He’s wearing jeans, but Spencer can see, when he breaks away to glance down, that Jon is hard.
He doesn’t say anything as Jon pushes his jeans down, past his thighs where he has to struggle out of them and settle back, helping Jon out of his own clothes.
Jon’s shirt goes easily, flumping down next to Spencer’s, and his jeans take too long for Spencer to get unbuttoned and zipped, tugging them down.
“Come on, Spence,” Jon breathes, and Spencer isn’t sure he’s ever heard Jon call him that. It sends a shiver down his spine, a simple word tinged with something closer to affection than Spencer has heard in a while from anyone that wasn’t Brendon.
Jon pulls him down when he hesitates too long, mouth pressed against mouth, Jon’s hand tangled in his hair as he kisses him thoroughly, biting at his bottom lip until it’s red and sore, but Spencer doesn’t stop him.
“How,” Spencer mumbles once against Jon’s mouth, but Jon just edges him forward until they’re pressed flush together. Spencer can feel the blood pulsing in his cock, the flush on his skin when Jon arches up, slick skin against skin until Spencer gasps, pushing back, burying his face in Jon’s neck.
“Just like this,” Jon breathes, and Spencer can feel the throb as he bites his lip and grinds down with Jon.
Everything is fuzzy when he thrusts against Jon, hot and heavy, and he can hear the slide of bare skin, the breaths panted into the silence. He searches out Jon’s mouth as Jon’s hand slides between them, wrapping around Spencer’s hard cock and stroking quickly.
“Fuck,” Spencer curses helplessly, fingers gripping Jon’s shoulder tightly and losing himself in Jon’s mouth, Jon’s hand on his prick, the hot flush rising on his skin, coiling in his stomach, until things are hot and sticky and he’s gasping for breath against Jon’s mouth.
Jon bites down on Spencer’s bottom lip as Spencer comes, jerking in his grip and finally relaxing against him.
As Spencer slides down, his mind is fuzzy and he feels content and tired, but Jon is still there, still pressed against him, and Spencer shifts forward, sliding a hand down.
“Fuck, Spence,” Jon breathes when he hand wraps around him. His head falls back against the chair as Spencer moves quickly.
Spencer watches Jon’s face change, the sharp tighten, the quick breath before he comes, eyes opening slowly as he pants for breath. It’s all over too fast, and Spencer hesitates as he takes his hand away, reaching for the roll of paper towels they always keep handy.
Jon doesn’t speak for a moment and neither does Spencer, wiping off his hand and glancing back. Jon’s mouth is red and his eyes are bright, and when he catches Spencer looking, he smiles slowly, pushing himself up so they’re face to face.
“Dinner?” he asks quietly, licking his lips and waiting.
They just practically had sex and Spencer still hesitates. It’s just dinner. With Jon. His patient. When he hesitates, Jon leans in and kisses him slowly, something lingering that makes Spencer think again.
“Dinner,” Jon says again, not a question this time, when he pulls away and Spencer finds himself somehow nodding along.
“Dinner,” he repeats finally, and when Jon smiles, Spencer’s already thinking about cleaning up the chair.
*
Singer troops up the stairs to his apartment, hands full of takeout food as he climbs higher and higher, hating that his building doesn’t have an elevator. It’s past dinner time, but getting up the willpower to get up and get food after a long day at the office is harder than it sounds.
He finally makes it up to his fifth floor apartment and fumbles for his key as he pushes open the door from the stairs to the hallway.
A giggle catches his attention and his head snaps up, landing fifty feet down the hallway where his neighbor has some red-headed girl pressed up against his door.
“Cash!” the girl giggles, pushing at his hands as they stand there, inches from his door, and Singer can feel the annoyance, the flash of jealousy and stupidity, rising up as he stands there. Can’t they just go inside instead of standing in the hallway for everyone to see?
As Singer watches, Cash grins at the girl, that same cocky grin he gives Singer every time he comes into the office.
Huffing, Singer decides he really doesn’t need to watch this as the girl giggles again and Cash’s tongue is down her throat. Instead, he fishes out his key and shoves it into the lock roughly. He hopes vaguely that it doesn’t break as it turns and clicks.
Glancing back before he heads inside, he’s shocked to find Cash watching him, the smile still on his face, but different this time, more of a smirk as Singer frowns and ducks inside as quickly as he can.
Safely inside, he dumps the food on the counter and leans back against it, sighing to himself. Why can’t he have a crush on a guy who’s not straight and who is actually nice? Shaking his head, he returns to his food, digging a fork out of a drawer and cracking open a box of fried rice. He’s about to take a bite when he hears a door slamming out in the hallway and a stereo turning on loud music in the apartment next door.
Groaning, he hopes this doesn’t go all night, but he thinks he hears a vague giggle over the smashing guitars and cringes, grabbing his food and retreating to his bedroom to put on his head phones and trying not to think about just what Cash and the redhead are doing ten feet away.
Part Two.
.