Chapter Text
Ghouls were not prone to human sicknesses.
During their entire time topside, they rarely fell ill, if ever.
The worst thing they ever had to endure was the heats.
Terzo knew this well; in truth, everyone in the Ministry knew it.
So when his beloved demone and husband failed to show up for rehearsal and soundcheck before that night's ritual near the Ministry, Terzo’s calm dissolved slowly into concern.
They could technically perform their set without a rhythm guitarist, but it simply wouldn't sound the same.
Deciding not to wait around, Terzo set off to check on his ghoul himself.
He navigated the quiet corridors of the Ministry until he reached the hallway housing the ghouls' quarters.
Stopping outside a familiar door, marked with the quintessence symbol, he paused.
He had visited this room countless times, often staying tucked away in there until the following morning.
Or afternoon.
Terzo knocked gently against the wood. "Omega? Are you alright, amore mio?"
Silence met his question.
A crease formed between Terzo's brows.
He knocked once more, firmer this time.
Still, no answer came.
Refusing to take any chances, he reached for the brass knob and turned it.
To his relief, the latch gave way, it was unlocked.
Stepping inside, Terzo paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim room, lit only by a thin sliver of light filtering through a crack in the heavy curtains.
As his vision cleared, he spotted a large lump buried beneath a mountain of blankets on the bed.
"Amore?" Terzo called softly, keeping his voice low in case the ghoul was asleep.
Quiet hung heavy in the air.
"Omega?" he tried again.
When another wave of silence answered him, Terzo stepped briskly across the room.
He reached down, placing a hand on Omega’s shoulder, and gently shook him.
Heat radiated through the fabric right into Terzo's palm.
He was burning up.
"Omega? What is the matter?" Terzo asked, his tone sharpening with worry.
Omega let out a soft whine, weakly attempting to shrug Terzo's hand away.
Under normal circumstances, Terzo might have panicked, but he forced himself to keep a level head.
Omega never pushed him away.
Never.
Terzo sat on the edge of the mattress, leaning down to face him.
"Do you need to go to the infirmary?"
Omega blinked open a pair of bleary, violet-colored eyes, slowly shaking his head.
"No... I am fine," he murmured softly. "I'm just tired. Not feeling good."
"Are you certain you would not prefer the infirmary?" Terzo pressed gently.
Omega shook his head again, shivering as he burrowed deeper into the safety of the heavy blankets.
Terzo was taken aback by the reaction, but he would never force his ghouls, much less his husband, to do something against their will.
He simply wasn't built that way.
"Very well, my ghoul," Terzo said softly, brushing a stray lock of Omegas white hair away.
"Get some rest and do not worry about the ritual tonight. We will have someone else fill in for you."
Omega made a faint, affirmative noise in the back of his throat and let his heavy eyelids slip shut once more.
Leaving Omega to rest, Terzo slipped out of the room and made his way back to where the rest of the band was still rehearsing.
Gathering Alpha, Water Pebble, and Aero he announced that Omega was unwell and that they would need to adapt the performance to proceed without a rhythm guitarist.
The ritual would go on as planned, though Terzo knew the stage would feel remarkably empty without his husband beside him.
Later that evening, once Omega was certain the rumble of the tour bus engines had faded into the distance and the grounds were entirely clear, he finally moved.
Omega threw the blankets aside and climbed out of bed with far more energy than anyone recovering from the flu should have possessed.
With a flick of his wrist, the illusion dissolved.
The pale, feverish complexion vanished. The shaking left his hands. Even the exhausted slump of his shoulders straightened until the “sick” ghoul standing in the room disappeared entirely.
A satisfied grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The performance had been flawless.
“Sorry, amore,” he murmured to the empty room. “Just this once.”
Drawing on his power once more, Omega cloaked himself in the glamour of an ordinary human before slipping quietly through the Ministry’s halls.
Outside, one of the Ministry’s cars waited exactly where he’d left it.
Terzo had insisted on teaching him to drive months ago.
In hindsight…
That had probably been a mistake.
The drive to the venue felt strangely exhilarating.
For once, Omega wasn’t backstage tuning his guitar or preparing for the ritual.
Tonight he was simply another face in the crowd.
He had even bought himself a ticket at the barricade, wanting to experience every moment from the perspective of the fans who devoted themselves to Ghost night after night.
Not because he was tired of performing.
Never that.
He simply wanted to know what it felt like to stand on the other side of the lights.
To feel the anticipation.
The electricity.
The collective heartbeat of thousands of strangers waiting for the curtain to rise.
By the time he reached the arena, the sidewalks were already overflowing with excited fans dressed in elaborate face paint and homemade robes.
Laughter echoed through the crowd.
Someone nearby was loudly debating which song would open the set.
Omega couldn’t help smiling.
Hidden beneath flawless glamour, he joined the line as though he belonged there, which, in a way, he did.
Just not in the way anyone imagined.
He slipped into his place against the barricade and waited.
The opening notes of Spirit thundered through the theater.
The curtain dropped.
A deafening roar erupted from the audience as the curtain fell away.
Terzo strode onto the stage, flanked by the Ghouls, every bit the commanding Papa the crowd had come to worship.
For a heartbeat, his gaze swept over the sea of faces.
Then it stopped.
Omega.
Terzo knew three things with absolute certainty.
The theater was sold out.
His rhythm guitarist was supposedly back at the Ministry recovering from an unfortunate illness.
And standing directly against the barricade, wearing a human face that fooled everyone except him, was his impossibly stubborn husband.
Terzo bit back a laugh.
No glamour in existence could hide Omega, or their bond, from him.
“Il mio amore demone,” he thought, amusement blooming like butterflies his chest.
What are you up to now?
Instead of exposing him, Terzo merely smirked to himself.
If Omega wanted to play a game…
Very well.
Terzo intended to win.
Terzo drifted across the stage during Cirice, scanning the audience as though searching for tonight’s chosen victim.
Omega relaxed.
Good, he thought. He didn’t notice me.
Terzo stopped directly in front of him.
Slowly…
He lowered himself to his knees
The audience erupted.
Terzo reached for Omega’s hand, his gloved thumb brushing over his knuckles.
When Terzo finished singing, he winked at Omega and sauntered off confidently, ready to make the Omegas’ plan spectacularly backfire.
Omega’s jaw dropped as a black thong flew onto the stage.
Terzo picked it up with deliberate care, rubbing the fabric gently over his face before tucking it into his jacket.
A low growl escaped Omega, his possessive nature flaring uncontrollably.
He continued watching Terzo’s playful antics on stage.
At one point, during a pause in the show, Terzo climbed onto a speaker and whimpered in a high-pitched voice,
“I want to be your ghoulette, Alpha.”
Omega nearly lost it.
Behind Alphas mask, Omega could see the flash of his orange eyes turned a furious red for a moment before settling back.
Omega forced himself to enjoy the rest of the ritual.
While the ghouls tossed picks and drumsticks and took their bows, he slipped out quietly.
Driving back to the ministry, he shed the glamor, letting his ghoul features reclaim their place as he retreated to his room, pretending to be sick.
He knew Terzo would come to check on him, and a small, satisfied smile curved his lips as a stirring in his pants struck him.
When Terzo arrived, he knocked and stepped inside to find Omega tucked under the blankets, just as expected.
Before Terzo could tease him about the sick act though, Omega was suddenly towering over him, pinning Terzo’s hands above his head.
Their hips pressed together in a slow, deliberate grind.
Terzo smirked up at his husband, feeling the growing bulge beneath Omega’s pants. His voice was playful, teasing,
“So you did like the ritual after all.”
Omega growled low and guttural.
“What was that, amore? The thong in your jacket?
The whining about being Alpha’s ghoulette?”
Terzo laughed, his smirk widening.
“I caught on before the ritual even started.
I had to put on a show, couldn’t let you get off that easy.”
“Oh, I’m definitely making you pay for your little stunts, Omega growled, canting his hips harder into Terzo’s.
With a swift motion, Omega lifted Terzo and tossed him onto the bed, practically ripping off his uniform and underwear.
Hovering over him, Omega kissed him hard, each kiss bruising and fierce.
That night, the ghouls wouldn’t get any sleep. Not Alpha, not Omega, and definitely not Terzo