DENTIST
what to know: seungmin x dentalhygienist!reader, fluff, sfw (teeny tiny hints of dirty thoughts), getting together, seungmin pov and he is the king of self-deprecating humor, i promise i don't see him in the way he portrays himself here, i hope some of you find him relatable, probably inaccuracies about dentistry
this idea came to me when i discovered seungmin has a song in the k-drama 'hometown cha-cha-cha', and i was fueled by the sheer love i have for his smile
word count: 3.0k
recommended listening: here always by seungmin
The dentist's chair was a deeply unkind invention.
There were few situations in life as humbling as lying flat on your back under fluorescent lights with your mouth forced open, sharp metal tools poking and prodding at your gums to the point of making them bleed, and absolutely zero control over where your tongue went.
And, horrifically, it offered an unfiltered view straight up the patient's nostrils.
Objectively speaking, it was the ugliest and most compromising position a person could be in. All this while fully conscious, too, mind you.
And as fate would have it, Seungmin was currently living in it.
This, unfortunately, was not a new experience.
He'd been coming to this same dental office for years now—every six months on the dot, as was recommended. Sometimes more often, if we were being honest (being a celebrity meant people cared a lot about how straight his teeth were and how white his enamel was, apparently). Which meant that, statistically speaking, he had spent an unreasonable amount of his adult life in this chair.
You hadn't always been the one hovering over him in this god-forsaken dignity-stealer. At first, you'd been stationed safely behind the front desk: answering phones, checking him in, handing him a clipboard with a happy and rather pretty smile (honestly, Seungmin wouldn't be surprised if they put you at the front desk as a sort of self-advertising tactic, what with your magnetic grin). You'd mentioned, offhandedly, that you were still in undergrad for microbiology then. He'd nodded, made some appropriately supportive comment, and then gone home and looked up what the requirements were for that just to see how much smarter you were than him (the answer was 'immeasurably'), and to maybe have something more to talk about at his next appointment.
Somewhere along the way, you'd graduated and gotten into dental school. You swapped the desk for gloves and a mask and a role that put you directly in his personal space.
He was really hot and cold on how he felt about this.
Because now, more often than not, when his name was called from the waiting room, it was you he followed down the hall. You who prepped the chair and tools and x-rays. You who asked him how he'd been since his last visit. You who got to see him so, so utterly ugly and vulnerable.
But then, there was the one silver lining to this bleak, undignified existence:
For the next forty-five minutes, he got to look at you.
Granted, you were wearing a mask that hid half your face, along with clear protective glasses that caught the glare of the overhead light. The lamp positioned directly behind your head made you more silhouette than person, a blinding halo that ensured he couldn't see you properly. You really could have been anyone for all he was able to tell.
Still.
He could see the way the corner of your eyes crinkled slightly when you smiled down at him. He could see the intense focus in the way you worked, could feel the gentleness of your hands, the way you murmured reassurances he couldn't respond to even if he wanted to because your literal fingers were in his literal mouth.
In any other context, that would have been... well.
Hot, probably.
Instead, he was forcibly reminded that this was a dentist's office.
Nothing about this place was sexy (bar you in your purple scrubs, his brain unhelpfully chimed). Not the squeaky chair, not the smell or the sounds, and certainly not him.
Whatever appeal he might have had had been left in the waiting room, or more likely, back in the car.
"Suck," you said.
And his brain went places it absolutely shouldn't, even in this unsexy hellscape.
Still he closed his lips around the suction hose and felt his mouth dry up instantly with an obnoxious sluuuurp.
God fucking dammit, why couldn't you have been a bartender, or a florist, or literally anything other than his fucking dental hygienist. At least then, he could feel like he had a fucking chance.
He stared at the ceiling, cheeks warming, as you continued scraping plaque off this teeth and hosing it down.
After you finished that, you picked up the small box that held the floss twine. Seungmin watched as you cut off a long strand and started winding it around your fingers.
"Still flossing everyday?" you asked.
Seungmin didn't have to lie when he nodded. Not to brag, but he took great care of his teeth—for the obvious benefits of personal hygiene, but also because he didn't need the added humiliation of you judging him for not being able to keep one simple routine.
"Great!" you beamed. "You know, I think you're one of my most diligent patients when it comes to flossing and using mouthwash, and it definitely shows. You have amazing teeth."
Seungmin swore he levitated off the chair for just a moment there, he was so easy when it came to you.
The floaty feeling dissolved, though, as you told him to open up again. Next thing he knew, your hands were back in his mouth, and he felt his tongue brush the latex of your gloves every other second as you worked.
Eventually, mercifully, finally, you pulled back.
"Alright," you said, voice bright. "You can rinse."
Seungmin practically leapt at the opportunity. He closed his mouth and accepted the little paper cup you handed him. He swashed the water around, spit into the basin, wiped at his mouth, and exhaled slowly through his nose, regaining something resembling composure, if such a thing even existed here.
The chair whirred softly as you raised it upright and helped take the bib off of him. You peeled off your gloves and tossed them neatly into the bin with the bib, already moving away to scribble something onto his chart.
"Honestly, this was one of the easiest cleanings I've had all week," you said offhandedly. "You make my job very pleasant, Seungmin-ssi."
He blinked.
"Oh," he replied, aiming for nonchalant so he could maybe salvage some of his stolen dignity. "Yeah. I mean. I try."
"That's all we can ask for." You laughed softly at that, glancing up at him. Suddenly, you paused, eyes caught on something as you stepped back over. "Oh, you've got a..."
With your gloves removed and the bib gone, there was nothing immediately at your disposal to use as a wipe. This didn't deter you at all, however (thank god), and you swiped a thumb across his lower lip to brush away what felt like dried fluoride.
"Sorry about that," you sheepishly said.
Sorry?
Seungmin could list over a hundred things that he wanted from you right then, but an apology was not one of them.
He shook his head, willing himself to get a grip while he still could.
You stepped aside to tidy the station a bit more, and Seungmin swung his legs off the chair, stretching his jaw. He stood, smoothed a hand down his shirt, and resisted the urge to check his reflection in literally anything reflective to make sure there were no other lingering fluoride stains or that his hair wasn't sticking up all weird.
"So," you said, turning with his chart in hand, "same time in six months?"
In another world, where Seungmin was a more suave individual, he would take this opportunity to ask to see you sooner.
In this one, he let the opportunity pass him by wistfully.
"Yeah," he said as he slipped his hands into his pockets to clench them in jealousy over the alternate dimension version of himself. "Six months sounds good."
"Perfect." You smiled. "Let's get you back on the schedule before it fills up."
He nodded and followed you out into the hallway, wondering how weird it would be to walk beside you rather than behind you in this narrow hall. Of course, he didn't test this, because that was something only Suave Seungmin would do.
As you approached the front desk—conveniently vacant for the time being—and rounded behind it, you glanced back at him. "Same day as usual?"
"Uh, yeah," he replied. "Or whatever you've got open."
You nodded, taking a seat to access the online calendar. Seungmin spun around in a circle slowly, glancing around the waiting room to make sure nobody was waiting for their turn with you. It was empty, thank god. That meant no audience just in case this next bit went south.
"You're here most mornings, right?" he asked. "I feel like I always end up on your schedule before noon."
"Yeah." You glanced back at him, smiling. "I prefer mornings. Frees up my evenings."
"Thought so," he said lightly. "You seem like a morning person."
"Do I?" you laughed. "I promise I'm not."
Fuck. How stupid could he be, making a wrong assumption about you?
"Could've fooled me." He smiled nervously, scrambling to think of anything else to say that might make you laugh again to distract from his mishap. But he knew he wasn't bizarre in a funny way like Han, and he wasn't chronically online enough to know all the funny pop-culture references like Felix, and he wasn't a comedic story-teller like Bangchan. Really, all he had were his sarcastic one-liners and those were sporadic at best, and very environment-driven. Hyunjin might have thought he was the funniest person on earth, but that guy was messed up in the head, so it was not really a confidence-booster.
You turned back to the monitor, finishing up the booking, and Seungmin watched you for a moment. When you paused again, he took the opportunity.
"Are you still taking classes on the side?" he asked.
You glanced up from the computer, a little surprised, then nodded. "Yeah. I'm in my final year now."
"Almost done," he said, genuine awe slipping into his voice before he could stop it. "Wow."
"Yeah." You smiled, and he genuinely thought you were born for this career with a smile like that. "I sometimes forget that you've been coming here for so long and have basically witnessed my whole university career."
He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, so he conveniently skipped passed it.
"Are you excited to be done?" He tilted his head, already knowing the answer, because duh.
"Definitely excited," you said, predictably. "I've been in school for so long that the idea of not having assignments or deadlines feels weird, but I'm excited to see what full-time work actually looks like. Less excited for board exams," you added, grimacing slightly. "Which I'm trying not to think about too much."
He winced in sympathy, gathering from context that these must be important exams. He would have to look it up later just to remind himself how crazy genius you were again.
"So," he said, careful to keep his tone light, "I'm guessing that means you're pretty busy these days. Studying a lot?"
"Pretty much nonstop, honestly." You nodded.
"Sounds exhausting," he said.
"It is," you admitted. "But I think it'll all be worth it in the end."
He hesitated for half a second, then added, casually enough, "Do you at least get time off? Or does school kind of... own you right now?"
You laughed. "A little of both."
That was too open-ended. Not a no, but not very telling. Very lukewarm. Seungmin wasn't great with lukewarm.
He nodded, hands still relaxed at his sides, pretending his next question was purely conversational and not a quiet assessment of his odds, chances, and literal future.
"Anyone keeping you sane through all of that?" he asked.
When you looked up at him, there was a brief, unmistakable moment of recognition in your expression.
"You mean," you said slowly, "like a boyfriend?"
Seungmin held your gaze, resisting the instinct to laugh it off or retreat.
Oh, what the hell. Couldn't get any lower than rock bottom, right?
"Yeah," he said, biting a figurative bullet and hoping it didn't somehow explode in his freshly cleaned mouth.
You watched him for another second, lips pressed together in thought, before shaking your head.
"No," you said. "No boyfriend."
The relief hit him immediately in an overwhelming wave, and he was grateful for the years of media training that allowed him to keep it from showing. Outwardly, he simply nodded, expression neutral, as though he hadn't just been handed the best possible answer.
"Good," he took a chance.
You studied him for a moment, clearly deciding whether to accept that as a slip of the tongue or read into it further (please, please, read into it further—he did not want to spell it out more than he already had). Whatever conclusion you came to, it seemed to amuse you.
"Good?" you echoed, and he took it as a positive sign that your lips threatened to inch into a smile.
He nodded once, buying himself half a second to think, which his brain immediately used to zero in on your slight smirk and fawn over it.
"So, I don't know," he floundered, "when school stops terrorizing you and you're done with boards—congrats in advance, you totally got that—I was wondering if you'd want to get out of here."
All in one breath, by the way.
"Out of here?" You raised an eyebrow.
Idiot, what kind of phrasing was that?
"Far away," he said, then amended, "Okay, not far far. Just... somewhere that isn't... here. Somewhere I'm upright and marginally more attractive."
That finally did it. You laughed, shaking your head.
"I don't know," you said. "You're pretty attractive already."
"Aw man," he said, letting his mouth run faster than his brain (what did he say about it being sporadic?), "does the whole supine-and-mouth-wide-open thing get you going? Cause maybe I'll have to reevaluate."
Just as he contemplated straight-up walking out of there to go find a hole to die in, another series of laughs burst from your mouth. And Seungmin honestly thanked every god he could think of that you seemed to be as messed up in the head as Hyunjin.
"No. No, absolutely not," you said after a breath.
"Okay, good," he said immediately, relieved. "Because that would've been a dealbreaker for me. Personally."
"Fair enough," you conceded. "If it helps, when someone gets in the chair, they kind of turn into just a mouth? Like, back there, I didn't see Seungmin with his mouth open, it was more like, Seungmin's mouth."
He could appreciate an attempt at alleviating his anxieties, even if it failed.
"That sounds just as bad," you admitted. "At least it's a nice mouth?"
"I'll take it," he said, feeling that floaty sensation take over again. "And, I think we can end on that high note."
Lest I go and ruin it all with my big (nice) mouth.
"I didn't even give you an answer about taking me far away from this place yet?" you asked before he could remove himself from the conversation and the office and maybe even the world. "Or is that off the table now?"
"It is definitely still on the table," he rushed out.
"Oh good." You smiled. "Because I think I'd like to take you up on that."
How one person could go from absolute rock bottom loser to ascending to godhood in the span of an hour was beyond Seungmin, but he just lived it. He was definitely going to go buy a lotto ticket on his way home—luck was on his side.
"After boards, though," you added, practical to the end. "I don't think I'd be much fun before that."
"And when are those?" he asked, failing to cover up his eagerness.
"I should be done with them right around the time of your next appointment actually," you answered. "So about six months. Think you can wait till then to see me?"
"I've been doing it over and over again for the past five years." And there went his big (nice) mouth, just like he feared.
"Five years, huh?" you asked. "And only just now saying something?"
"It just always felt like there was this power imbalance? What with me just laying there and you staring down at me," he said, mostly as a joke (because he actually quite enjoyed that part). "And the dentist is probably the worst place to shoot your shot, so..."
“That didn’t stop you today.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, “I finally reached the point where the fear of another six months of regret outweighed the fear of being rejected.”
“That’s very brave of you,” you teased.
“Desperation and bravery look very similar in practice,” he replied easily.
You laughed, shaking your head, and Seungmin decided that if this all fell apart later, at least he’d gone down being funny.
“Well,” you said, clicking a pen for something to do, “I guess I’ll see you then.”
“Yeah,” he replied, taking the clear hint. This was your place of work, after all. “Looking forward to it.”
He turned toward the door before he could say anything else that might undo this miraculous turn of events. He absolutely bought a lotto ticket on the way home. It didn’t win, but honestly, he felt like he’d already used up his luck for the decade and that was just fine with him.
Six weeks later, he was back.
At the front desk, he claimed tooth pain. It was complete bullshit; his teeth were fine. But desperation and bravery, as previously established, looked very similar in practice.
You raised an eyebrow when you saw his name on the clipboard and looked up to see him in the waiting room.
“Everything okay?” you asked.
“No, everything's awful,” he lied. “I thought it was best to consult a professional.”
You laughed, and somehow, between “checking on the tooth” and “just to be safe,” the two of you ended up sharing digits. Which turned into getting coffee. Then dinner. Then another coffee squeezed in between study sessions and rehearsals and life.
He learned to work around your schedule, and you with his.
By the time your board exams rolled around, he was sitting across from you at a small table, quizzing you with flashcards and handing you snacks when you got something right (and just as often when you got something wrong, because your pout was as magnetic as your smile).
When you passed, he was the first person you called.
When you graduated, he was sitting in the crowd.
And, years later, when you finally opened your own practice, Seungmin was your first patient. And though he figured he still looked horrifying grotesque on that chair (despite your many attempts to tell him all you saw was a mouth—whatever that meant), he could be comforted by the sight of a wedding ring dangling from a necklace around your neck.
