One of his ghosts

kazoo comfort - papa emeritus iii x gn!reader

notes: 1.4K words. a little bit of hurt/comfort with a dash of angst. i wanted to see terzo in a comfy sweater and @tasty-ribz DELIVERED, which inspired this lil fic :) ao3 link.

If you had zero self control, you would flip your desk over and punt your computer out of the window. But, you did have self control, so you sat there at your desk seething. You steeple your fingers, tapping your fingertips together as you glare at your computer screen.

You had grown up in the ministry and always knew that you wanted to stay there. It was your home for as long as you remember; you felt accepted and safe there. Plus, the fact that you had an education in the macabre was difficult to translate into a resume that employers will actually respond to.

The ringing in your ears keeps growing as your frustration mounts. Being Director of Education for the ministry was an extremely rewarding job for you, but on days like today… you wish you had picked something a bit less complicated as a career. It was incredibly important work but the constant feeling of being pulled in a thousand different directions, putting out fires left and right, and trying to get all the curriculum updated in accordance to the new face of the church, was becoming overwhelming to say the very least.

You run your hand over your face as you sigh deeply. Nothing was working right now, least of all your brain. You push yourself from your desk and stand up, deciding to take a walk to clear your thoughts. Maybe you could make sense of what needed to be done after a small brain break.

The hallways are completely empty, with most siblings of sin in class. Your steps echo as you shuffle along, your mind turning and turning, thinking of what you should do when you get back to your office, 

“Tesoro, I can feel your fury in the air.” 

You freeze midstep, your eyes widening as you turn to where the voice came from. Papa Emeritus the Third was nestled in on the windowsill behind you, a book in his hand as he gazes at you curiously. He claps it shut, hopping down from the sill to approach you.

You haven’t seen much of him on the Abbey grounds since he was retired. When he was Papa, he was always working and checking in on every aspect of the clergy, including education. The two of you had established a rapport during that time and you ended up looking forward to his visits to your office. 

He looks different, a bit more tired than you are used to seeing and much more casual. It looks like he is wearing a pair of black jeans? You stare at them for a moment, then your eyes travel up to take in his oversized gray sweater. When your gaze finally lands on his face, he is obviously amused.

“Has my outfit cured you of your frustrations?” He chuckles as he crosses his arms, leaning against the nearby wall. 

“Ah, no. Sorry, Papa.” You manage a smile. “Just not used to seeing you so cozy. It’s been a while… how are you?”

“Not Papa anymore.” He mumbles, his eyes flicking down the hall for a second before returning to you. “I’m fine, I’m fine — but let’s talk about the issue at hand, eh? Who is giving you trouble, dolce? A student? A teacher? I can pay them a visit for you.”

You give him a pained smile, your lips twitching as you try to think of how to explain the issue to him. Your mouth opens, then you close it again, your brows furrowing. “It’s um… it’s more than just one issue. It’s a whole thing. I don’t really want to get into it.”

Terzo hums as he slinks in front of you, cocking his head to the side as his eyes search your face. He rests his hand on your shoulder and gives it a small squeeze. It’s even more difficult for you to formulate thoughts now that his full attention is on you but his touch feels so comforting, so soothing. 

He still had that charm and confidence that had made him an effective Papa but there was an unshakable air of melancholy about him now. It was hard for you not to try and comfort him right now, with the way his eyes were piercing yours and how he looked so sullen.

“Ah, I understand, dolce. I think I do have a way to help you get your mind off of the… eh, issues, you are facing? If you’ll have me?” Terzo’s lips curled into a grin, his hand drifting from your shoulder to brush against your cheek. You feel yourself drifting closer to him. He still has the irresistible charm that made him an effective Papa. “Please.”

Your noses are nearly touching, his breath feeling hot on your face. Whatever thoughts of work have completely faded in the moment, replaced by him. It was beginning to feel like this wasn’t for you anymore – it was for him. The way he was looking at you with such need sent waves of warmth through your body, pooling in your stomach. Maybe you could help each other. 

“Okay, P–Terzo.” You muster shakily.

“Ah, bene.” He removes his hand from your cheek only to then loop his arm in yours and starts pulling you down the hall in the direction you came. 

“Wait, are we going back to my office?” You nearly trip over your feet trying to keep up with his pace. 

“Si, si. We must have our privacy, tesoro.”

You shuffle along silently next to him until you finally reach your office. He quickly shuts the door behind the two of you, his hands immediately falling to your waist to guide you to one of the armchairs.

You sink into the chair as Terzo rests his hands on your shoulders, starting to rub them gently as he lowers his face so close to yours again.

“I have just the thing that will cheer you up.” He pats your cheek affectionately and steps back in front of you. Your fingers tap nervously against the chair arms as he seemingly gets into position. 

He pulls his kazoo from his pocket in dramatic fashion, waving it in front of your face before sticking it into his mouth. You break out into a huge smile, your hands falling to your cheeks as you blush.

There had always been talk of Terzo and his kazoo abilities around the Abbey. It was something of a legend among the clergy members with those having helped with the Unholy Unplugged tour swearing it was a magical experience. The mythical kazoo disappeared once the normal tour started, never to return.

But now, here it was, right in front of you. 

“Terzo, I am honored.” You giggle, thoughts of work having completely faded.

He waggles his brow and grins around the kazoo. Then, he dramatically lifts his arms up in the air, giving the kazoo a loud honk before launching into a spirited rendition of ABBA’s Mamma Mia, complete with the thrusting of his hips. By the time he ends the song with a flourishing buzz of the kazoo, he is in your lap with his arm slung around your shoulder, his sweater feeling so soft against the back of your neck. 

“So? What do you think, tesoro?” Terzo asks, kazoo still in mouth. He plucks it out and looks at it for a moment, then places it gently in your hands. 

“Oh, I loved it.” You smile at him and you can feel a blush creep up on your cheeks. “Definitely cheered me up a lot.” You turn the kazoo over in your hands, fingers drifting over the mouthpiece.

“It felt good to perform again.” His voice is low, eyes averting yours as he looks off into space for a moment. There it was again – that sadness that seems to have seeped into his bones. He has always seemed a bit self-deprecating, cracking jokes at his own expense, but this felt much deeper. There were rumors that he was truly a quiet, self-loathing man but this was the first time you were catching a glimpse of who he really was.

You place the kazoo gently in his lap and wrap your arms around his waist, tucking your head against his chest. He pulls you in close, resting his head atop yours. The two of you sit there like that for some time in silence, holding each other close, listening to the beating of each other’s hearts. You have never been this close to a Papa before, despite having been a member of the clergy since you were born, but it felt so comforting.

“You can always perform for me, Terzo.” You whisper against his chest, hands starting to gently rub his back. He sighs deeply against you, burying his in your hair.

“Thank you, tesoro.”

Terzo with his gazes into space, with his need to be in the center of someone’s attention. So sad.