Part 1

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Steve and Natasha are barely done with their own routine dental check-ups when the notification of an emergency mission comes through. The Avengers' annual dental visit is typically swift and uncomplicated, but the arrival of their urgent mission turns the day into something far more chaotic.

"Where is Wanda?" Steve asks, scrolling through the mission details on his phone.

Natasha shrugs, sipping on her post-check-up glass of scotch. "I haven't seen her since breakfast."

Vision appears in the room at that moment, his face expressing the closest thing to exasperation an android can manage. "She's only now on the chair," he says, glancing at Steve, whose eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"Now? But everyone else is done!"

"I had to convince her to come," Vision sighs. "I found her hiding in the back library. It took me the better part of an hour to persuade her to face the dentist."

Natasha rolls her eyes at the revelation, trying to suppress her chuckle. The most powerful Avenger, avoiding a simple dental prophylaxis. "We don't have all day, Steve. The mission is critical."

Steve nods, sliding his phone into his pocket. "We'll leave a note for her. She should meet us ASAP once she's done."

Natasha gets up from her chair, glancing one last time at Vision, as she quips, "Good luck to whoever is the dentist working on her this year."

-

As you approach the dental chair, you take note of the apprehensive figure occupying it. You've already seen a dozen Avengers today, each with their unique quirks and idiosyncrasies.

But Wanda Maximoff, her gaze filled with clear distaste for the situation, seems to take the cake. She's curled in on herself, making her seem smaller than she actually is. The sight of her alone would have been enough to unnerve you, but the intermittent quivers of your dental tools due to an unseen force send a cold shiver down your spine. You can't help but wonder if you've drawn the short straw when they assigned you the patients for today.

You try your best to project an air of calm. Inside, though, your nerves are jangling like alarm bells.

"Wanda, right?" you confirm, trying to keep your voice steady.

She nods, her eyes wide as saucers.

"I promise this won't hurt," you reassure her, even as your tools continue to rattle on the tray. "It's just a routine check-up."

A skeptical glance is thrown your way but it's at least some reaction. Her gaze is piercing, and it takes every bit of your collected facade to keep from faltering. An absurd thought flashes across your mind: if you were to meet an untimely demise in your line of duty today, who on earth would inherit the numerous houseplants that have taken over your apartment over the years?

With a nervous smile that Wanda can barely make out behind the surgical mask you wear, you gently ask, "Shall we begin?" Your tone is soothing, carefully modulated to put her at ease.

The poor Avenger takes a deep, long breath before giving you the go-ahead to proceed with the checkup.

For her part, Wanda begins to concentrate on anything other than the feeling of your gloved fingers in her mouth. Her gaze settles on your oversized prescription glasses that lend an air of professional yet friendly vibe. And there's something about the clean, familiar scent wafting off your white coat that comforts her more than she's willing to admit.

She can't help it when her mind starts drawing comparisons with last year's dentist—a gruff, no-nonsense man whose hands always seemed cold and who lacked any bedside manner whatsoever. You, on the other hand, are like a breath of fresh air with your calming demeanor and reassuring approach. Wanda blushes at the thought that, admittedly, you're kind of a nice upgrade.

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