Chapter Text
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Kalego Naberius was not what anyone pictured when they thought “omega.”
No soft smiles, no deferential postures, no sweet, pliant aura. He was the sharp edge of discipline wrapped in a pressed uniform, eyes as cold as obsidian, voice clipped like the crack of a whip. Students whispered “alpha” behind his back—confident in their assumption—because the very idea of their strict, stoic homeroom teacher being anything else was absurd.
It helped that almost none of the Misfit Class had any close experience with omegas. In Babyls, omegas weren't common to begin with, and the majority followed at least some of the typical tropes, if only because instincts pushed them that way.
Kalego simply refused to indulge his biology.
Most of the time, it worked.
But biology wasn’t polite enough to ask permission.
It was halfway through the morning’s lesson on ancient demon law when it hit him. One moment he was writing a list of binding oaths on the chalkboard; the next, a wave of heat surged from the base of his spine, curling up into his ribs, dragging a deep, aching thrum low in his stomach. His knees nearly buckled.
No. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his posture perfect. This wasn’t due for another week—he’d planned for it. He could manage until lunch, get to the staff wing, call Balam—
The second surge was worse. His head swam, the chalk clattered from his fingers, and the room tilted.
A few gasps rippled through the class. Chairs scraped back. “Kalego sensei?”
“Sir?”
But only one student froze for a very different reason.
Asmodeus Alice knew exactly what he was seeing. That faint shift in scent—almost imperceptible to anyone else—the slight tremor in Kalego’s fingers, the sudden hitch in his breathing… he’d been taught growing up the signs, as his mother was an Omega so was he. He knew the signs of heat like he knew his own reflection.
He stood quickly, ignoring the confused murmurs from his classmates, and was at Kalego’s side before anyone could protest.
“Sensei,” Asmodeus murmured low but soft, keeping his voice pitched so only Kalego could hear, “you need to get to the teacher’s lounge. Now.”
Kalego shot him a glare that would have made most demons quake. “Sit down, Asmodeus. I am—”
A third wave hit. His legs gave out entirely. He caught himself on the desk, breath sharp through his nose.
That was all the confirmation Asmodeus needed. Without hesitation, he let his own scent bloom in the air—calm, warm, steady. Omegas near other omegas could soothe one another, ease the sharp edge of instinct. He didn’t think; he simply acted.
Kalego stiffened at the intrusion, but the steadying pulse of Asmodeus’s scent kept the panic from tipping into something worse.
“You’ll thank me later,” Asmodeus said firmly, ducking under Kalego’s arm to brace him. “Let’s go.”
The Misfit Class erupted into questions, but Asmodeus ignored them, steering his teacher toward the door.
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By the time they reached the teacher’s lounge, Kalego was flushed, scent spiking erratically. A couple of staff members looked up, startled—then understanding dawned.
“Early cycle?” one of them asked gently.
Kalego didn’t answer. His jaw was clenched, eyes averted.
“Where’s Balam?” another teacher asked.
“Field trip,” came the reply. “He’s out with the second-years for the week.”
There was a beat of awkward silence. Without a bonded partner to help regulate him through the cycle, Kalego’s instincts would only get worse. The staff knew the options—either an omega sought out sexual bonding with their partner, or…
“They can also bond parentally,” Asmodeus cut in, voice steady. “I’ll help.”
Kalego’s head snapped toward him. “What?”
“It’s the best choice right now,” Asmodeus said without flinching. “You know it’s calming for omegas to be around others. I’m willing to be your kit until this passes.”
The teachers exchanged looks. It wasn’t conventional, but it wasn’t unheard of, it was just something you tended to keep in the family. But the Misfit Class’s most disciplined student volunteering was… oddly fitting.
Kalego muttered something dark under his breath, but another heatwave made his knees go weak. He didn’t protest again when they started toward the nesting room.
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The nesting room was warm, dimly lit, lined with blankets and cushions in soft piles. The moment they stepped in, Kalego’s shoulders loosened fractionally.
He dropped onto the largest nest, dragging in deep breaths as the worst of the trembling eased. Asmodeus sat nearby, posture perfectly straight despite the oddness of the situation.
“Come closer,” Kalego ordered at last.
Asmodeus obeyed, settling beside him. He didn’t even flinch when Kalego’s hand slid into his hair, the older omega leaning down to scent him, pressing his cheek to the crown of Asmodeus’s head like a mother cat claiming a kitten.
The effect was immediate—Kalego’s breathing slowed, tension bleeding away. And to Asmodeus’s mild surprise… it was comforting for him, too. His mother had rarely had time for such things; most of his early comfort had come from nannies.
Before long, Kalego was grooming him—fingers combing through his soft pink hair, smoothing it down, sometimes straightening his collar with brisk, precise motions.
By the end of the first hour, Kalego had decided Asmodeus was his kit for the duration.
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The heat cycle lasted four days.
By day two, the pattern was set. The teachers brought trays of food to the door, and Kalego insisted on feeding Asmodeus himself—sometimes with utensils, sometimes with his own hands. At one point, he even demanded a bottle of honey milk and, without ceremony, held it out until Asmodeus drank.
It was mildly humiliating… and yet, strangely, Asmodeus found himself relaxing under the care. It wasn’t something he’d realized he’d missed until now—having someone insist on looking after him.
They talked a little; most of the time was spent in quiet, Kalego’s scent wrapped protectively around the room. Sometimes Asmodeus would curl against his side and let the steady heartbeat lull him into half-sleep.
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On the fourth day, the worst of the heat finally passed. Kalego was still a little flushed, but the tension in his posture had eased.
Hes brushing Asmodeus's hair calmly “You didn’t have to do this,” Kalego said at last, voice low.
“I know,” Asmodeus replied simply. “But I wanted to.”
Kalego studied him for a long moment. “…Hmph. You’re a good kit.” he put down the brush.
It was meant as a half-grumble, but Asmodeus caught the softness beneath it.
When they finally left the nesting room, the scent of the nest still clung to them both. And though neither said it aloud, something between them had shifted—quietly, permanently.
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