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Abel, Emily, St Peter, and you had been hanging out in the park, chatting and hanging out as you did every week. You and Abel had recently started dating, the both of you having confessed your feelings a week ago. He assumed it’d be easier to hang out with you now that he confessed to you.
Oh you…
He couldn’t pry his golden eyes off of you, his gaze going from your shoes, to your halo, to your wings, until his eyes stopped at your hands. Your soft-looking hands… He loses himself in thought, paying no mind to the conversation between the others. He looks closely at your nails, imagining you scratching his scalp gently and coaxing him to sleep. He sighs dreamily at the thought
“Abel?”
He wonders what it would be like to hold your hands. Are they as soft as they look? Why has he never held your hands before?
“Abel.”
How would your hands feel on his back? Or on his shoulders? Or under his robe! He blushes profusely, cheeks turning gold.
St Peter snapped his fingers
“Ugh— ABEL!” St Peter practically shrieks.
Abel snaps out of his train of thought, jumping in his seat. “Holy shit— huh?”
“Good to finally have you back, lover-boy,” St Peter scoffs. “Anyways, we were talking about how many pangolins we saw this week.” He points a finger at you. “They said they saw five— pff, rookie numbers. Emily said she saw… how many was it?”
“Seventy!” Emily chimes in happily. “Yeah, seventy.” St. Peter says “To no one’s surprise. And I think I saw, like, ten? Emily and I went to the zoo earlier this week. So how many did you see, Abel?”
Abel thinks for a moment. “Pangolins? Well, I didn’t really get to go out that much, so at most maybe three?” Abel dismisses the subject, he couldn’t care less about pangolins. He sits and watches you talk to the others, before a thought crosses his mind. He goes back to the thoughts he had earlier— what if he held your hand? He gets a giddy smile from the idea, not realizing that St Peter and Emily saw him and were laughing about it. He quickly glances to you, sitting right next to him and blissfully unaware of how you affected him.
Slowly, he drops his arm to his side, inching his hand closer to yours until both of your pinkies touch. You look down when you feel the contact, shrugging it off and assuming it was an accident. He turns his face away from you, covering it with his other hand. He stays like that for a minute, debating whether or not he should go further. Finally, he coughs up the courage to ask.
Abel nudges you lightly.
“Yes, Abel?” You reply, turning to him.
“Can.. can I hold your hand?” Abel clenches then relaxes his fists.
It seems as if your body screeched to a halt when he asked the question.
Oh God, what if they hate me? His mind starts spiraling. What if they think I’m a touch-starved weirdo now! What if—
“Oh! Yeah- ehem, go ahead.” You nod, gesturing for him to go for it. Honestly, you would have died a second time if you had to keep making the first moves, so this was a nice change of pace.
“Okie dokie! I’m.. I’m gonna do it.” He declares, biting his bottom lip in anticipation. Steadily, he slides his hand under yours, intertwining your fingers together. His eyes keep darting between your hands and the floor. At first he tenses up, wings twitching, his hands already getting sweaty and his face flushed, hyper-aware of every movement you make. Finally after some time he actually manages to relax. It feels as if his mood was completely changed, he eagerly kept conversation with St Peter and Emily, all while holding your hand.
Ring ring!
Abel freezes, feeling his phone vibrating in his pocket. He sighs in disappointment. No one ever calls his phone besides the friend group and Lute, and since he was already out with his friends, it narrowed down his options to the grumpy lieutenant. Abel huffs, “Wait one second, Lute’s calling me.” He reluctantly let go of your hand to glide over to a nearby tree.
“Lute? Is everything alright—“
Lute immediately cuts him off. “ABEL GET YOUR ASS HERE NOW!”
Abel yelps almost drops his phone. “W-what? Why?” His palms get even sweatier now, thinking of all the things he might’ve done wrong in the past and how he might be in trouble.
“TRAINING—“ She clears her throat. “Is in ten minutes. You’re supposed to oversee it as the general.”
Shit.
He totally forgot!
“Oh! Oh yeah— I’m totally on the way right now, no problem-o!” Abel hung up before Lute could say anything more. He, in fact, was nowhere near the training center.
He flies back to the bench where everyone was sitting, head hanging down.
“Guys.. I have to go.” He lifts his head up slowly, clearly torn about having to leave. “Duty calls, y’know! Ahaha! Hah..” He waves everyone goodbye, getting ready to leave. He hugs Emily and St Peter, then makes his way to you, hesitantly offering a hug. You practically swoop him up, squeezing him in a tight embrace and knocking the breath out of him. You finally let him go (to his relief, he would’ve exploded if he stayed in your arms any longer) giving him the chance to breathe. You can see that his face is clearly flushed and golden, and it was adorable. He turns around and gets ready to take off, but he feels someone tug his collar.
Before he can process it, you had spun him around and brought him in front of you, pulling him in for a kiss. His thoughts were racing, everything spinning around him. He wonders how he got here, how he went from holding your hand to a kiss, although he wasn’t complaining. Your lips part from his and you bid him a safe flight. As he flaps his wings, a giddy grin begins to form on his face.
Maybe training won’t be that bad!