──── OFF DUTY
a routine wellness check on NABERIUS KALEGO during his evil cycle quickly spirals into an afternoon neither of you will ever be able to explain — especially after another coworker of yours walks in at precisely the wrong moment.
ⓘ starring 、evil cycle.naberius kalego x babyls teacher.reader
ⓘ content warnings 、spoilers up to chapter 319, likely ooc kalego (even his evil cycle can't justify this one atp lmao)
ⓘ production note 、reader's a demon, childhood friends trope, pre-established relationship, can be read as either romantic or platonic (tho it noticeably leans toward the former) & kalego misses you but he'd rather die than admit it
ⓘ script length 、~ 2,256
“kalego—”
“don't.”
“but look—”
“do not.”
a soft sigh nonetheless slips past your lips, your gaze wandering across the room its occupant currently calls home.
to describe it as a bedroom would be . . . exceedingly generous.
it bears far greater resemblance to the forsaken chamber of some long-abandoned estate, where neglect violence have long since taken root. deep claw-like gouges rake across the walls in uneven trails, while shattered furniture lies strewn about as if something had reduced it to splinters in a fit of blind fury.
what little remains of the curtains hangs in ragged strips from their rods, mercilessly torn apart until only frayed tatters continue to sway in the stagnant air. broken wood, shattered ornaments, and scattered debris litter every corner, leaving scarcely a single surface untouched by whatever calamity seems determined to revisit this room time and time again.
. . . that's the poetic way of putting it. to be perfectly frank, however — kalego is currently in his evil cycle. and, evidently, rather upset.
the evil cycle of the naberius bloodline is said to be extraordinarily rare. according to kalego himself, some members of his own family have gone their entire lives without experiencing it even once — which only makes the current situation all the more concerning.
you suppose whatever transpired during the deviculum or something like that truly managed to get under his skin. after attending that gathering of demon nobility, kalego returned carrying an amount of stress and pressure you had never quite seen before — for reasons you have yet to piece together yourself.
whatever the cause, it eventually proved enough to drag him into his wicked phase, forcing him to take a temporary leave from his duties at babyls.
which, naturally, is why you're here — just a quick visit; a simple wellness check on your childhood friend, as routine as any of the others you've done before — nothing more and nothing less.
. . . the only issue being that it was supposed to remain quick.
“kalego, i'm serious. listen—”
your earnest attempt is answered by little more than a low grumble. or perhaps something closer to a hiss.
it isn't that you're trying to close the distance between the two of you in some misguided attempt at comforting him; the truth is — there isn't any distance left to close.
if anything, there is far less than what most demons would consider appropriate.
because you're currently being hugged. or, more accurately — held captive.
the ever-stern, ever-intimidating naberius kalego; the guard dog of babyls; one of the academy's most fearsome instructors—
—is hugging you.
truthfully, even entertaining the sentence sounds absurd — and yet reality has already decided to prove otherwise. the sheer absurdity of it almost has you convinced this must be some particularly vivid dream, one from which a good hard pinch ought to awaken you.
that is, if kalego's claws weren't already doing a convincing job.
they dig ever so slightly deeper each time you attempt to wriggle free — not enough to break skin, merely enough to remind you that escape is, for the time being, decidedly out of the question. maybe even in his current state, some corner of his mind still refuses to let your uniform — or your person — share the same unfortunate fate as the floorboards and furniture scattered throughout the room.
knowing words are unlikely to get through to him in his current state, you gradually abandon your rather futile attempts to wriggle free and simply settle where you are.
with only the slightest tilt of your head and the smallest shift of your posture, you make yourself as still as possible, careful not to startle him. by some means or other, you can't shake the feeling that merely witnessing him like this — especially you of all people — is already pushing the limits of what his pride can tolerate. maybe such awareness is simply the byproduct of spending years walking beside him.
and so, you wait.
long enough for silence to descend upon the room and comfortably curl up between the two of you. if left unattended for much longer, you're fairly certain it'd start paying rent.
despite the dull ache recurrently blooming on your back from being pressed against the hard-surface sofa, along with the all-too-familiar complaint from your neck, you still remain exactly where you are.
you cautiously clears your throat.
". . . feeling any better?"
"yes."
". . . can you—. ." your fingers twitch faintly against his sleeve as you attempt a tentative shift, only to stop midway. "—move a little?"
all that consideration on your part is met with nothing but a familiar, dreadful silence — then again, that much hardly comes as a surprise.
words have never been kalego's preferred means of expression — let alone now, when even his composure has been thrown into disarray by his wicked phase. if his mouth remains stubbornly shut, however, his actions are anything but.
the vice-like grip that had kept you caged so fiercely — like some instinctive part of him feared you might simply vanish the moment he loosened his hold — gradually relents, albeit with visible reluctance.
just narrowly enough for the crushing pressure threatening your ribs to ease by a mere fraction. enough for the talons that had stubbornly dug into the fabric of your uniform to finally withdraw — though not nearly enough to be mistaken for actually letting go.
". . thank you."
you experimentally straighten your back.
as someone who has somehow accomplished what most demons would deem outright impossible — befriending the guard dog of babyls, to borrow iruma's rather fitting description — you've spent more than enough years at kalego's side to recognize when something is genuinely amiss. checking in on him every now and then has simply become second nature; especially now, when he's clearly suffering under the effects of his evil cycle.
even so, you can't honestly say you yourself ever anticipated this.
if anything, this alone speaks volumes about just how severely his wicked phase has taken hold.
unfortunately, regardless of how much you wish to remain here — whether to care for him properly or simply keep him company until he calms down — you are still, first and foremost, a teacher at babyls.
and teachers, regrettably, do not possess the luxury of an endless schedule.
truth be told, you've already slipped away in the middle of your shift just to check on him. and you have the distinct feeling kalego is fully aware of that fact — which only makes his current behavior all the more contradictory.
". . . as much as i'd like to stay with you," you begin cautiously, each word chosen with the same care one might exercise when approaching an injured animal liable to bare its fangs at the slightest wrong move. "you know i'm still on duty, don't you?"
"i can't just disappear for the rest of the day without telling anyone."
"that doesn't mean i can't stay with you," you murmur, voice mellowing of its own accord. "i can always request a leave of absence. the earliest they'd approve it, though, would probably be tomorrow."
"either way, i have to head back first. i still need to ask for permission, seeing as i don't even have my phone with me. if you really want me to stay with—"
"quit talking."
the demand comes barely above a mutter, muffled against your shoulder.
". . ."
". . ."
the words you had been about to say gather at the very tip of your tongue, only to wither there before they are ever given the chance to escape. whatever retort, persuasion, or compromise you had hoped to cobble together suddenly no longer feels worth uttering. not when he looks this miserable.
with a half‑hearted puff, your eyelids drift shut for the briefest of moments.
there it is. complete, undeniable surrender.
every attempt to coax yourself free has, for all intents and purposes, sunk without so much as leaving a ripple behind. if you can't pry yourself out of his embrace, then perhaps the only remaining hope lies with another close coworker of yours — balam shichiro.
if memory serves, he'd also been asked to drop by with kalego's medication. unless he'd already come and gone before your arrival, there's still a chance salvation might walk through that very door sooner rather than later. and even if he had already finished delivering it, you're fairly certain the koala currently clinging to you won't be keeping his captive forever.
hopefully.
so until then, you suppose there's little harm in making the situation a touch more bearable — for both of you.
with that thought in mind, you cautiously ease one arm free from the confines of kalego's embrace, moving with painstaking care as if even the slightest misstep might shatter the fragile calm he'd finally settled into. once liberated, your hand slowly rises toward his back, stopping only a few inches away, suspended in the air to test waters whose depth you can't yet discern.
one of kalego's pointed ears gives a faint twitch. a low, almost inaudible rumble escapes him — not quite a growl, yet not entirely unlike one either.
. . . you decide to interpret that as permission — only then does your palm finally settle against his back.
the first pat is hesitant, feather-light — little more than an experimental touch. then comes another, and another after that — your hand gradually falling into a slow, unhurried rhythm as it gently travels up and down between his shoulder blades.
from the way the tension in his shoulders eases — if only by the slightest margin beneath your palm — perhaps you're doing something right after all.
"you know," emboldened by what you deem to be a sufficiently comfortable stretch of silence, you begin. "you don't actually have to pounce on me like some starving beast as a greeting next time if all you wanted was a hug."
"you could always just admit you missed me and i'd be more than happ—"
they don't pierce your clothes, nor do they so much as scratch your skin, but the unmistakable pressure of his talons digging into your side is more than enough to make you jolt.
"alright, alright—!" a startled yelp escapes before you can stop it. "owch— it was just a joke, that's all."
"will you ever learn to keep your mouth shut?"
". . yessir."
with all the dignity you can salvage, you awkwardly sink back against the sofa's unforgiving cushions, letting your body go limp against both the furniture and the apparently immovable demon attached to your side.
before your mind is even aware of it, sleep has already claimed you as swiftly as the blink of an eye. the rigid sofa at your side proves far from the most comfortable place to drift off, yet exhaustion wins regardless, pulling you into unconsciousness before you can so much as protest.
somewhere amidst that hazy slumber, you vaguely register the faint sound of a door easing open.
bleary-eyed, you slowly pry your eyes open — only for the dreadful, no less humiliating realization to strike you square in the face.
balam is here.
and, judging by the small, ever-so-understanding nod he offers upon noticing the two of you occupying the very same sofa — resting well within one another's personal space in what could only be described as a rather intimate position — he has already reached whatever conclusion his wonderfully imaginative mind has decided upon.
before you can utter a single word to defense your little dignity left, he quietly places the medicine onto the coffee table.
". . . it seems kalego‑kun is well cared for, then. i’m relieved.”
with that, he offers another gentle, closed-eyed expression — the unmistakable air of subtle delight radiating from him despite the mask concealing whatever smile surely lies beneath it — before politely excusing himself.
"s-shichiro, wait—!"
your voice rises on instinct, only to falter midway through as you simultaneously realize kalego has, at some point, also drifted off beside you.
". . . i can explain! it's not what you think it is!"
unfortunately, by the time the words leave your mouth, balam has already slipped beyond the doorway — perhaps a little too quickly. or, rather, deliberately.
after all, as the self-appointed captain of a certain ship that had long since set sail, one can hardly blame him for choosing not to interrupt what he almost certainly believes to be a long-awaited breakthrough between the two of you.
". . ."
somehow, you have the terrible feeling this perfectly innocent wellness check is about to snowball into an astonishing number of misunderstandings.
and, knowing balam . . .
by tomorrow morning, that ship will have reached every dock in babyls.
DIRECTOR'S COMMENTARY ──────── ✦ is it just me or does kalego look even more put together in chapter 319 than when he's not in his evil cycle . . either way i just know he's a big fat ahh yearner. like bro will spend the entire day thinking about you and then act like your existence is a mild inconvenience the moment you show up gsyadickj (and supportive sweetheart balam yayyaa)
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