Written because @avegetariancannibal ‘s post about Hannibal cleaning filled me with domestic hannigram!feels. Finally writing something again after a 5+ year hiatus feels good.
~1k of domestic cleaning fluff, set directly after the fall.
“You know I’ve seen a lot of ridiculous things in my life,” Will said, “but this may just take the cake.”
Hannibal was clad in a pair of pajama pants Will had grabbed at Target, plastic Swiffer duster in hand as he stood on his tiptoes to reach the top of the bookshelf. They’d been in the cabin for god only knows how long - Hannibal had insisted that it was only a place to convalesce before moving on- but both of them had spent most of their time in various stages of sleep; drugged up on what little morphine Hannibal had stored in the bathroom cabinet years before. Will had expected the first thing Hannibal would do once he had the energy was cook. Not play merry maid on a Sunday morning.
“Dust will do nothing for our recovery,” Hannibal said as he attacked the next shelf. “I see nothing ridiculous in tidying up while I can.”
Mickey moaned. His jaw was in pain but there was nothing he could do about it. He held the now lukewarm beer up to it, as Ian parked the car.
“When’s the last time you’ve been to a dentist?” Ian asked when he came around to open Mickey’s door.
Mickey just gave him a flat look. He held his arms out to his boyfriend. “Carry me?” He winced. Talking hurt like a bitch.
Ian chuckled, “It’s your teeth not your legs, you big baby. C'mon,” he grabbed Mickey’s hand and pulled him along until they were siting in two chairs at an emergency dental clinic.
“Mickey?” A nurse called after a while. She smiled, even though Mickey looked like he wanted to punch a hole in the fish tank in the corner.
“Can I go in with him?” Ian had already gotten up and had a hand on Mickey’s shoulder.
“Sure. Follow me.” The nurse led them to a room, only somewhat hiding her grin at how cute they were together.
Soon an older man with a considerable bald spot entered the room. “Hello, I’m Doctor Duane. Now, what’s the problem?”
Mickey looked at Ian like he was going to answer for him, but everyone was looking at him. “Uh…toothache,” he said simply.
“Uhuh, and when did it start?” The doctor began to put Mickey’s chair back and unwrapped some fresh tools.
“Couple days ago when we were in bed,” Ian answered nonchalantly. Mickey glared at him and he shrugged. “He asked,” he reasoned.
Mickey thumbed at his mouth in embarrassment, forgetting about his predicament too late. He hissed.
“And what were you doing?”
Mickey raised an eyebrow. “What do you need to know that for?” He knew he was blushing while trying to look menacing. They had been in bed 69ing for over an hour. Anyone’s jaw would hurt, but it hadn’t gone away for Mickey.
“Just trying to determine if there was an incident that may have caused the trauma. Let’s have a look, yes?”
Mickey nodded slowly after a moment, sure that the guy wasn’t some perv trying to butt into their personal lives. He opened his mouth wide and tried not to bite his gloved finger as he poked and prodded at his teeth. He grunted, eyes watering when he tapped a back tooth.
“Ah. Impacted. It will have to come out,” the dentist said to no one in particular.
“Come out? Today?” Ian asked, noticing the panic in Mickey’s face.
“Yes. If you’d like the pain to stop,” he chuckled over Mickey’s face, and Mickey thought he could’ve easily got in a nut shot from his position. “I’ll give you a little local anesthesia and a little gas, and you’ll be good to go, yes?”
“Fuck no! Ow!” Mickey cringed when they were alone for a moment. He shook his head, “No. I got fucking pliers at home. I’ll do it myself.”
Ian rolled his eyes and came over to Mickey. “Calm down, Mick. It won’t be that bad.” Ian knew Mickey had a thing about needles, and if there was another thing Mickey didn’t like was not being in control of what happens to him. Put the two together and he was a mess. Ian scooted his chair over and took Mickey’s hand. “I’ll be right here. Okay?”
Mickey took a deep breath. He fucking hated needles and he hated being foggy despite how much he drank and smoked. Those he could control, but this was different. He was kind of glad Ian was there with him after practically screaming for him to just stay home while he came alone. He squeezed his hand and relaxed, looking into his calm green eyes. The dentist came back in and set everything up. Mickey couldn’t turn to look at Ian once his mouth was anchored open, but he tried to find him with quick glances.
Ian saw Mickey looking scared, so he rubbed his knuckles with his thumb. He waited until the doctor was ready with the needle. “Close your eyes,” he said softly to just Mickey. Mickey looked like he didn’t want to lose sight of Ian but he did it anyway, as the needle poked at his gums. Ian kept rubbing his hand through the whole thing.
God, Mickey was hearing so much crunching for just one tooth. He thought his skull was cracking. He was also afraid of choking on his own tooth, but even as he squirmed and twisted he could feel Ian’s hand in his. The laughing gas was only making him feel kind of light and dizzy, which doesn’t actually do anything about the pain but make you not care as much. A bone was definitely being fucking pulled out of his head. If anything, feeling Ian’s presence beside him worked better.
“Okey dokey, Mickey! All finished,” the dentist patted Mickey’s shoulder a bit too hard, but Mickey sort of giggled in a dreamy state.
“Yay,” he said around the gauze that was covering the hole in his gums.
Ian held back a grin as he thanked the guy then helped Mickey up and out of the office.
“Why didn’t you tell me Chef Boyardee was a dentist?” Mickey asked innocently enough, although he looked offended that Ian would keep this information to himself.
Ian laughed out loud as he buckled Mickey’s seat belt. “As far as I know, Mick, he still makes canned heartburn.”
“Oh. Good for him,” Mickey nodded, giggling a little bit. “Let’s hurry to the mall now.”
Ian pulled out of the parking lot, giving Mickey a confused look. “Why?”
Mickey touched his finger to Ian’s nose and grinned with a bit of drool coming out of his mouth. “It’s almost fucking Christmas, Ian.”
“Mickey,” Ian chuckled, pointing the car towards their apartment because clearly his boyfriend needed to sleep off the minimal drugs he was on. “It’s July.”
Mickey nodded again with an even bigger grin, laughing quietly to himself all the way home.
Felt like writing this cuz I finally got my braces off after 8 years (that’s bad, for anyone who’s never had braces). It feels weird and it’s like I have to teach myself how to smile after being embarrassed by my teeth for so long. Anyway, I’ve always hated the dentists, and Mickey does too.
Also for the anon who had one word prompt for needles 😆😷💉😨
Daisy - sometimes Quake, depending on who’s talking - is a definite bad girl, despite being one of the best all-around people most of her people can name; as the Shieldmaidens’ resident techie-slash-muscle, she puts her hacking and ass-kicking skills to good and sometimes even philanthropic use, but the all-girl gang still technically falls on the vigilante side of things. Jemma, meanwhile, is a very good girl, femme and overachieving and very concerned with things being proper; she’s not expecting to meet Daisy and get swept off her feet and into a world of adventure and gratuitous Sapphic content and motorbikes, but she wouldn’t change it for anything.
(an Agents of SHIELD AU, part one [in time for Skimmons week?])