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Lando is currently a victim of his own procrastination. He leaned his head against his desk, groaning to himself. He was four hours away from a deadline for his typography portfolio, but every time he tried to focus on the kerning of a sans-serif font, a sharp, rhythmic throb pulsed through his lower molar.
“Lando, mate. You look like you’re decaying.”
Lando didn’t even bother with opening his eyes. He just shifted his hand to cup his jaw more firmly. "I'm fine, Max. It’s just... spatial awareness in my mouth. My tooth is very aware of its space right now."
Max leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "It’s been three weeks. You’ve been living on lukewarm soup and ibuprofen. You’re a graduating senior, you can’t die now. Go to the clinic already."
"I don't have time," Lando whined, the movement making his jaw twinge. "I have to finish this brand identity package, and then I have the final exhibition prep—"
"The university dental school does walk-ins for students," Max interrupted, tossing a set of keys at Lando’s head. Lando caught them with the reflexes of a man who was used to being bullied into self-care. "I already checked. If you don't go now, I’m telling your mum you’ve been eating nothing but Kinder chocolates for dinner. Hey, that’s probably why your teeth’s been aching."
Lando didn’t mind the dentist. In fact, he quite liked the sterile smell of antiseptic and the high-tech reclining chairs that made him feel like he was piloting a very expensive, very stationary spaceship. What he didn’t like was the unexpected.
When he strolled into the MTC Department of Dentistry’s satellite clinic to finally get a dental checkup on his molars that’s been bothering him for weeks, he was expecting an older dentist who had the personality of a beige wall and the steady hands of a surgeon. Instead, he was met by a nervous-looking young man in oversized scrubs who looked like he’d just survived a caffeine-induced heart attack.
"Lando Norris?"
A soft, deadpan voice rang in Lando’s ears just as he was about to take a seat in the waiting area after putting his name down for a walk-in appointment. Lando looked up to see a tall, pale guy in navy scrubs holding a clipboard so tight Lando was afraid it would snap in half.
"That’s me," Lando mumbled, standing up and immediately feeling the pressure in his jaw shift.
"Hi, I’m Oscar," the young man said, his voice cracking slightly. "I’m a fourth-year dental student. Dr. Russell is… dealing with a plumbing emergency in Exam Room 4. I’ll be taking your intake and assessment today under his supervision. If that’s okay?"
Lando tilted his head. Oscar was, in a word, adorable. He had dark, slightly messy hair, eyes that darted around like he was looking for an escape hatch, and a blush that seemed permanently dusted across his cheekbones.
"As long as you don't slip and take out a front tooth, we're golden, Oscar," Lando chirped. Oscar gave a jerky, terrified nod. "Right. Got it. Please, uhm, follow me. This way." He gestured for Lando to follow him back to a brightly lit cubicle.
“Please take a seat and lean back.” Oscar instructed. Lando happily hopped onto the chair and settled down as Oscar snapped on a pair of latex gloves.
"So, what brings you in?" Oscar asked, sitting down on a stool next to Lando and adjusting the overhead lamp.
"My tooth. It’s been, uh, protesting. Genuinely makes me want to rip my hair out or shove my head into drywall sometimes.”
"…Sounds intense. For how long?"
Lando hesitated. "A few days?"
Oscar cocked his head to the side, his dark eyes narrowing slightly behind his clear safety glasses. He looked like he could smell the lie. "The inflammation on your cheek, and I’m guessing probably around the gum line as well, suggests longer... Be honest, Lando. I’m a student, not a judge."
"Three weeks," Lando sighed, defeated. "I’m in the VisCom program. I’ve been busy."
"VisCom, huh?" Oscar picked up a small dental mirror. "Well, your tooth doesn't really care about your GPA. Open up for me?”
As Oscar leaned in, Lando found himself oddly focused on the guy's hands. They were steady, which was fortunate considering the field he’s in—but mostly because they were delicate and dainty. He also noticed that Oscar smelled surprisingly good for someone who spent his day looking at cavities.
"You’ve got a pretty significant cavity in the second molar," Oscar remarked, his voice muffled by his face mask. He pulled back, meeting Lando’s eyes. "The good news is we can fix it today. I can report this to Dr. Russell and he can perform the procedure within the day. The bad news is you’ve waited so long that he’s going to have to give you a local anesthetic. You’re going to be numb for a while."
"Will I be able to talk?" Lando asked, his voice slightly higher. "I have a presentation tomorrow."
Oscar offered a tiny, almost imperceptible smile. "You’ll be able to talk. You might just sound a bit like a leaky faucet for a few hours."
"You’re not going to do the procedure, right?” Lando asked. “I could—under Dr. Russells’s supervision. But with the current state of your molars, probably not. You have nothing to worry about.” Oscar awkwardly explained.
“Oh, no. It’s not that I don’t trust you… I just don’t want the cute dental student to see me drool on myself.” Lando immediately said, trying to rectify the situation. Oscar flushed and cleared his throat, “Oh… Uh. Okay. Uhm. Alright, if you could just—tilt your head back a bit further. I just need to do a full soft-tissue exam before I can refer you to Dr. Russell.”
Lando grinned at him before complying, the ache in his jaw long forgotten. He stared up at the bright circular light above him, opened his mouth wide, and felt the cool metal of the mirror gently depressing his tongue as Oscar scanned the roof of his mouth.
Oscar poked around with the little mirror, humming under his breath. The humming stopped abruptly. The silence stretched on a second too long. Oscar’s brows knit together, his focus intensifying on the area near Lando's soft palate.
Lando felt the mirror stall near the back of his hard palate. Oscar made a soft, strangled noise. He pulled the mirror back, squinted, then leaned in closer—so close Lando could smell the faint scent of peppermint gum and desperation on him.
"Ih hunghing hong?" Is something wrong? Lando tried to ask, his mouth still wide open.
Oscar snapped back, his face turning a shade of red that shouldn't be biologically possible. "I—no. Well. Yes. But it’s not a cavity! It’s just... there’s some significant petechiae and mild bruising on your soft palate. Near the junction of the hard palate."
Lando blinked. "In English?”
Oscar cleared his throat, looking everywhere but at Lando. "Small purple and red spots. They’re essentially tiny bruises where capillaries have burst under the surface. It’s caused by... uh... localized trauma. Usually repetitive. Mechanical friction. Often associated with..." He trailed off, his eyes fixed on a poster of a cartoon molar.
Lando sat up, leaning on his elbows. "What, like—did I burn it on a pizza? I did have a very aggressive pepperoni slice last night. I was so hungry, mate, I couldn’t wait for it to cool down.” He chuckled.
Oscar looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. "It’s, uhm. Well. A very specific pattern. In clinical textbooks, we call it fellatio-associated palatal petechiae. It’s... well... it’s from, you know.”
Lando’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know.”
“Usually, we see this with viral infections like mono, or sometimes from localized trauma. Extreme coughing, perhaps?” Oscar offered other explanations but Lando just shook his head, “I haven’t really been sick lately.”
“Oh. Okay. Then. Well. Uhm.” Lando looked at Oscar amusedly. Like it was his greatest pleasure to see the younger man flustered. “I could only think of one thing to explain the bruising on the roof of your mouth…” Oscar mumbled.
“What is it?”
“Sucking."
The silence in the room was heavy enough to be measured in tons.
Lando’s brain did a quick mental scan of his weekend. Ah. Saturday night. The guy from the gym. The very enthusiastic, very well-endowed guy from the gym.
"Wait," Lando said, his voice dropping an octave. "You can tell? From looking inside my mouth? You know I’ve been... busy?"
Oscar’s hands were shaking as he reached for a dental pick. "It’s a diagnostic marker. The soft tissue is very delicate. If there’s, uhm, significant suction or impact against the back of the throat, the capillaries burst. It’s... quite a clear clinical sign."
Lando let out a bark of laughter. "No way! I thought you guys just looked for cavities! I didn't realize the dentist was a lie detector for my sex life!"
"It’s not a judgment!" Oscar squeaked, his voice hitting a pitch only dogs could hear as he stammered. "It’s just an observation! We have to note any abnormalities! I—I need to complete the assessment now. Please open up again."
Lando laid back, but the mischief was already bubbling in his chest. He watched Oscar through narrowed eyes. The poor student was trying to be professional, but his ears were glowing bright pink. Every time he had to reach into Lando’s mouth, he seemed to be holding his breath, his movements jerky and panicked.
Lando waited until Oscar pulled the mirror and metal probe out.
"So, Oscar," Lando said, his tone purring. "Am I an overachiever? Is it like... an A grade bruise? Or more of a C?"
Oscar nearly dropped the probe in his hand. "I—I don't have a grading scale for that! It's just... present! It's very present!"
"Must be a lot of mechanical friction then," Lando mused, watching Oscar’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. "I'm a perfectionist. I like to do a thorough job."
Oscar was sweating now. "Mr. Norris, please," Oscar pleaded, his eyes wide and watery. "I'm just trying to finish my clinical hours. I have a practical exam after this."
Lando felt a wave of playfulness wash over him. He loved a challenge, and Oscar was the most breakable person he’d ever met.
"You seem a bit confused by the mechanics, Oscar," Lando said, tilting his head back further, exposing his throat. "Since you’ve only seen the clinical signs in a textbook. Do you want a demonstration? Show you how the mechanical friction actually happens?"
Oscar’s brain seemingly short-circuited. He froze, the mirror and probe in his hands uselessly hanging in the air. "A... a what?"
"A demonstration," Lando repeated, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. He reached out and gently caught Oscar’s wrist. "You know. For science. To help you with your studies."
Oscar looked down at Lando’s mouth, then back at Lando’s eyes, then back at the mouth. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck filled with hormone-induced confusion.
"I—I—that’s not—we’re in a clinical setting!" Oscar stammered. He was vibrating. He looked like he might actually spontaneously combust.
"You’re a blushing mess, Oscar," Lando laughed, finally letting go of his wrist. "It’s adorable. I’ve never seen a dentist so flustered by a little bit of oral history."
Oscar managed to finish the examination in record time, mostly by avoiding eye contact and moving with the speed of a man fleeing a crime scene. As he peeled off his gloves, he was still breathing heavily.
Lando hopped out of the chair, checking his reflection in the mirror and flashing a blindingly white smile. "Great job, Doc. Best dental checkup I’ve ever had. Very... insightful."
Oscar was busy scrubbing his hands at the sink, his back to Lando. "Glad you're satisfied. Please see the receptionist for your scheduled appointment with Dr. Russell later this afternoon."
Lando walked over to the sink, leaning against the counter. "Noted. But when can I see you again? Do I have to book another checkup and specifically ask for you? I might have more clinical signs for you to study before then."
Oscar finally looked at him, looking completely defeated. "Please. I'm just a student."
"Tell you what," Lando said, pulling out his phone. "Give me your number. I’ll take you out for a drink. Somewhere dark where you can’t see my palate. And then, if you’re a good student and play your cards right..." Lando leaned in, whispering into Oscar’s ear, "I’ll give you that demonstration. Private lesson."
Oscar’s mouth fell open. He looked at Lando, then at the phone, then back at Lando.
"A... a date?"
"A date," Lando confirmed. "I promise no dental equipment will be involved. Well. Maybe some teeth. But in a fun way."
“For a guy who claims he's too busy with school to see a dentist, you clearly find the time for some extracurricular activities.” Oscar muttered. Lando threw his head back in laughter, completely ignoring the ache in his lower molars, “Come on, Oscar. Go on a date with me.”
Oscar took the phone with trembling fingers and typed in his number. "I... okay. Yeah. Okay."
Lando winked, took his phone back, and headed for the door. "See you Friday, cutie! Don't forget to floss!"
As Lando walked out, he heard a loud thud from inside the exam room. He grinned. He’d clearly left an impression—and for once, it wasn't on the roof of his mouth.
The following Friday, Oscar spent three hours standing in front of his mirror, alternating between a button-down shirt that made him look like a Mormon missionary and a t-shirt that felt too casual for a man who had seen the literal back of Lando’s throat.
He eventually settled on a maroon quarter zip, hoping it hid the fact that he was sweating through his undershirt. When he arrived at the upscale cocktail bar Lando had suggested, he found the older man already tucked into a velvet booth in the back, looking effortlessly cool in a leather jacket.
Lando looked up, his eyes dancing with that same mischievous glint that had nearly caused Oscar to faint in the clinic. "You’re late, Doc. I was worried you’d decided to stay home and study x-rays instead."
"I was flossing," Oscar joked weakly, sliding into the booth.
The first twenty minutes were a masterclass in awkwardness. Oscar spoke in medical jargon when he got nervous, leading to a five-minute monologue about the structural integrity of the bar’s ice cubes.
"Oscar," Lando finally interrupted, reaching across the table to cover Oscar’s hand with his own. "Relax. We aren't in the clinic. You don't have to look for cavities, and I don't have to keep my mouth open. Well. Not for that, anyway."
Oscar’s face did that magnificent thing where it turned the color of a ripe cherry. "Right. Sorry. I just... I’ve never been on a date with a patient. It’s technically a bit of a gray area in the code of ethics."
"I'm not your patient anymore," Lando countered, leaning in closer. "I'm just a guy who likes your hands. They’re very steady. Usually."
"They weren't that steady last time," Oscar admitted, taking a brave, large gulp of his gin and tonic. "You really caught me off guard. Most people just talk about their gingivitis. They don't... offer demonstrations."
Lando chuckled, a low, vibration-filled sound. "You were just so clinical about it. I don’t even remember half the words you used but you made it sound like a rare tropical disease instead of a very good Saturday night."
As the drinks flowed, the tension began to melt. Oscar found out that Lando wasn't just a cheeky flirt; he was a graduating VisCom student with a penchant for photography and a surprisingly deep knowledge of vintage watches and sports cars. In return, Oscar confessed that he only went into dentistry because he liked the tiny gadgets, but he secretly wanted to be a baker because he loved biscuits, breads, and chocolates.
"A baker?" Lando raised an eyebrow. "So you fix the teeth that the sugar destroys? That’s a genius business model. Create the problem, then charge for the solution."
"It's about balance!" Oscar defended, laughing. "I make a mean sourdough. The crust is perfect. Not too hard—wouldn't want anyone chipping a tooth."
"See? Always thinking about the teeth," Lando teased.
The conversation drifted to more intimate topics. Lando asked about Oscar’s life in school, and Oscar admitted how lonely it could be. "It's a lot of studying. A lot of staring into plastic mouths. It’s... refreshing to talk to a real one. Even if it is a very… well, a very active one."
By the time they left the bar, the air between them was thick with more than just the scent of gin and expensive cologne. They walked toward the park, the city lights reflecting in the puddles from a recent rain.
Lando stopped under a large oak tree, the shadows hiding them from the main path. He turned to Oscar, his expression softening. "So,” he grinned, “About that demonstration I promised."
Oscar’s breath hitched. "You... you weren't joking?"
"I never joke about my extracurricular activities," Lando said, stepping into Oscar’s personal space. He reached up, his thumb tracing the line of Oscar’s lower lip. "You were so worried about the mechanical friction and the localized trauma… Don't you think you should experience the cause firsthand?"
Oscar didn't even have time to stammer before Lando’s mouth was on his.
It wasn't like the awkward atmosphere of the clinic. There were no bright lights, no latex gloves, and no clinical detachment. It was warm, frantic, and tasted like mint and lime. Lando was a generous kisser, but he was also assertive, his tongue teasing Oscar’s in a way that made the dental student’s knees buckle.
Oscar broke the kiss, their foreheads pressed against each other’s, “Do you know how common it is for people to have bacteria in their mouths—”
“I really don’t care. Shut up and keep kissing me.” Lando huffed and pressed his mouth against Oscar’s once more. Oscar smiled into the kiss, one hand coming up to cup Lando’s jaw and the other to grip his waist. Lando melted in Oscar’s tender touch, a low grumble escaping from the back of his throat.
Lando pulled back just an inch, his eyes dark. "Is that a clinical sign you recognize, Doc?"
Oscar let out a shaky breath, his hold on Lando’s waist tightening ever so slightly. "I think... I think I need more data. For my thesis. For science."
Lando laughed, pulling him back in. "Oh, I’ve got plenty of data for you."
The sound of the front door opening and closing made Max peek out from his room, “Oh. You’re back. Where’d you spend the night?” He asked, getting up from his chair that he’d rolled over to the threshold of his room. He stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall as he watched Lando take his shoes off.
“You know. Just. Out there.” Lando simply said, shrugging his shoulders.
Max crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Lando with a blank stare, “You fucked the dental student you were talking about a few days ago, didn’t you?”
“It was the other way around but semantics—“
“Oh my god.”
“Max. He was perfect. I’m going to marry him one day.”
Max shook his head and turned around in his heels to head to the kitchen, “It’s been a few days, I’m a little worried the anesthesia still hasn’t worn off.” Lando trailed behind him, waving his hands, “It was a local anesthetic. It wasn’t like I was knocked unconscious.”
His best friend gave him an incredulous look, “Isn’t that, like, against the rules or something? Shagging your dentist?”
“First of all, he’s only a student. Secondly, I’m no longer his patient.” Lando beamed and then let out a sigh, “Max. He was so adorable. And hot. Incredibly hot. Like, nerdy hot. I didn’t think I’d like that in bed but—“
“Okay, I don’t need to hear all that.” Max shook his head and poured himself a glass of water. As he drank, he could see Lando smiling—occasionally grimacing—and rubbing his jaw gingerly over the rim of the glass.
“Your teeth still hurting? I thought you were okay? Did the procedure not go well?” Max questioned, pulling the glass away for a moment. Lando shook his head, “No, it did. Dr. Russell did a great job.”
“Then why are you touching your jaw like that?“
Lando grinned at him, “Just aches in a completely different way, is all.”
“Fucking hell.”