#ler!abel

LEE

abel is like… stupidly ticklish for someone who stands there looking all holy and majestic 😭

he has that “oh?? what is this??” confused little smile the SECOND someone pokes him

his worst spot is his lower ribs. you touch him there, he folds IMMEDIATELY

laugh? ADORABLE. soft at first, then gets all breathy and giggly when he really loses it

he tries SO hard to be polite while laughing

wings? SUPER sensitive. you brush the feathers and he instantly squeaks

he does that little “grabs-your-wrist-but-gently” thing trying to stop you but he’s laughing way too hard to be threatening

afterwards he’s like “that was… unexpectedly delightful,” with the biggest blush ever 😭

he literally giggles for like 20 seconds after because he can’t stop

if someone teases him for being ticklish, he hides his face in his sleeves like a flustered puppy

LER

The most gentle menace ever. He doesn’t even tickle hard, he’s just so precise

he’ll do little soft pokes like “oh? is this spot sensitive?” while smiling all pure

teases you so sweetly it’s evil like “aww, you’re laughing already~?” 😭

Doesn’t chase you, he just walks calmly toward you while you freak out

uses ONE finger sometimes just to prove he can make you laugh with minimal effort

if you’re squirming too much, he just goes, “hold still, dear,” in the softest voice

he’ll literally hum while tickling you, like this is just a normal hobby for him

best aftercare, bros getting u snacks, water, or js chilling there afterwards w u

BUT the moment you're okay again, he’s like “should we continue? :)”

that innocent smile the whole time makes it 10x worse 😭

…Peter had been a little listless ever since the attack on Heaven.

Everyone was fine, of course, but his gate had been blown to smithereens mere inches from his watching eyes, sending him flying halfway across the realm.

It had been quite a shock, honestly. He had felt like a failure, even after his friends spent the next few days rebuilding the golden gates, sparing no detail on his behalf. He’d tried to smile the best he could as they showed him their handiwork- the plush mat they’d given him behind his podium, the speakers they added so he could better get his point across through song. They’d even made a lovely doorbell for him, letting him step away from the job for breaks and return when he was needed.

But had he deserved any of that?

His ONE job had been to watch the door. And what did he do? Watch it get obliterated! Eviscerated! Torn to pieces by the very souls he had been supposed to be keeping out!

Abel had tried to reassure him, told him that there had been nothing he could have done. The technology Vox had used was basically unheard of, he’d had no way to expect an attack of tha magnitude. -Besides, everyone was safe and sound, and that’s what mattered most. But even that didn’t help. Especially when Abel and Emily started spending more and more time down in Hell, leaving him alone with his thoughts, and a fancy new gate he couldn’t protect.

It had been during one of Sera’s weekly meetings on the hotel’s progress that he finally hit his limit.

He wasn’t even sure why he was invited to these things- Abel always asked for him to come, though. And he couldn’t say no to him. But just hearing what was really happening down there, even the more optimistic news, it was stressful.

The question of Abel and Emily’s safety began to haunt him just as much as the question of his own abilities.

So as they all left Sera’s office, he found himself rather stiff with tension. His wings, usually so elegant and refined, were ruffled with worry. The feathers stuck up at odd angles, like a baby bird trying to seem larger in the face of a predator. He himself hadn’t noticed until they got outside, and he struggled to unfurl them behind him to take flight. He turned his head, noticing the state of them, and sighed tiredly.

He stretched one wing around to better reach it for himself, awkwardly trying to smooth out the ruffles himself so he could at least get back to work. But despite his flexibility, and his insistence that he couldn’t ask anyone else for help, it was quite the difficult task.

“Oh! Peter! Do you need any help?”

The deep, melodic voice pulled the poor Saint right out of his thoughts, causing him to stiffen up and undoing any progress he’d made on the one wing so far, “Ah-! -Abel! Jeez Louis- um, no, I’m alright.”

He shifted awkwardly, not wanting to explain his situation for fear of losing his cool. However his closest friend seemed to pick up on that pretty quickly.

With a frown, Abel slowly lowered himself back to the ground from where he’d been hovering, stepping over, “You don’t look alright.”

Peter cringed, at this point unsure how to get out of this uncomfortable position, so he took a breath and relented, “…Sorry. I- y’know. With everything happening…”

He gestured to his wings, then himself, looking lost, “…I think I’m a little freaked out.”

He dint get a response at first, just that same puppy-dog expression Abel often wore when he was concerned for a friend. It made his heart ache, and he had to look away from the guilt. He hadn’t wanted the other angel to worry about him. Not when he was so inconsequential.

Nevertheless, the son of the first man was persistent, “-Peter, you should’ve said something. Have the meetings been stressing you out?”

Peter shook his head, before realizing that was somewhat of a lie, “No- I mean- maybe… sometimes I just- I worry about you. And heaven, and Emily… And me. What if I’m not cut out for all this? I’m supposed to be guarding Heaven. I can’t even do that-!”

Peter cut himself off from further humiliating himself, but the admission of his fears hung heavily in the air between them.

Abel seems to think for a moment, before he pulled out his phone, typing rather urgently.

“Wh… What are you-“

“I just texted Emily! She’s covering the gate for you for the rest of the day.”

Peter looked shocked for a moment, “What? But I can’t-“

“Yes, you can. You need a break. C’mon, I can fly you back to my place! I can bring out the karaoke machine~!” Abel reached out and took Peter’s hands, before flying up into the air.

Peter had forgotten what it was like, after so many years, to fly without full control over the whole thing. But considering who was holding him, he didn’t panic too much. He just gripped the other tightly, setting his jaw as he tried not to think about missing a whole half day of work.

By the time they got to Abel’s home, Peter was still a little on edge. But he followed after his friend, into the house and straight to the living room. Peter had been here a million times before, and he quickly sunk into the couch with a long sigh. Then he curled up, bringing his knees to his chest and his wings around his body like a protective cocoon.

Abel frowned for a second as he watched the other, realizing he likely wasn’t in the mood for singing and dancing. Something quieter was needed. Softer.

Abel knew where to start, at least.

“Hey,” he spoke in a quieter tone, settling into the couch beside Peter, “How about I help fix up your wings?”

He knew it was a delicate question to pose. Preening was something personal, for angels. But he thought, or at least hoped, he and Peter were close enough to warrant the idea being considered.

Peter peeked up from his feathered shield, eyes a little watery. There was a flash of hesitation in his expression, but only because he was worried Abel was being too nice. Then again, he trusted him. So much.

So he nodded, slowly at first, and gently unfurled his wings again.

They were smaller than other angels of their status. Not as imposing, or grand. But they were certainly a sight to behold. Mostly white, a bright, pure coloring that was almost blinding in the sun, but tinged with light blues and pastel yellows that brought out his eyes. Like a songbird, small but beautiful, and a powerful voice to match.

Abel took a moment to admire them without realizing, before he settled in to better reach out. He tried to be as gentle as he could, first running a hand along the topmost line of feathers. Peter suppressed a shiver at the feeling- In all honesty, he had never let anyone else do this. So he wasn’t sure what to expect.

“Is this ok?” Abel asked suddenly, and Peter nodded, wing twitching despite himself.

So Abel continued.

It wasn’t long, however, before he noticed Peter was… shaking? Ever so slightly, his shoulders were hunched up and he was now facing the complete other direction from him. Was he crying? No, it wasn’t that-

Abel continued to card his fingers through the downy feathers as he tried to figure out what was wrong, only for Peter to give the smallest of squeaks, jerking away all at once.

“Sorry! Sorry- oh gosh-“ the Saint quickly tried to apologize, settling back in and letting Abel get a glimpse at the shaky smile on his face.

Oh.

Oh.

Now he understands.

“Are you… tickli-“

“It’s just- nerves. I think.” Peter interrupted, face tinged a nice golden hue that Abel would definitely like to see more often.

“Nerves.” Abel repeated, unconvinced as he moved closer again to continue his delicate handling, “Are you sure…?”

He moved a little lower down, rearranging the feathers and fixing the fluffy mess with careful movements. And before Peter could answer, he came across a particularly “nervous” spot, causing his voice to rise another octave.

“Eep-! Mmhm- Y-Yeah. Juhust nerves!” Peter continued to try and play it off, biting down on his lip afterwards to stifle a short giggle.

There we go.

Abel lit up considerably as his suspicions were confirmed, his previous mission of simply tidying up the other’s wings quickly falling to the wayside. He decided, then and there, that this was definitely the best way to cheer his friend up.

“Ooookay…!” Abel pretended to agree, a smirk on his face that would have sent Peter running had he been able to see it.

The older soul continued to work through each row of pearlescent feathers, taking extra care of any spot that caused Peter to jolt or let out a small snort. But nothing had entirely broken him yet. Not until Abel dug a little deeper- literally. He fluttered his blunt nails underneath a patch of unruly feathers, under the guise of getting a particularly stuck feather straight. Peter immediately reacted, wings fluttering and bursting into confused laughter.

“Ahaha-! Ahabel-!”

“I thought you said it was just nerves!” He teased back, scritching gently against the smooth skin, “Seems pretty ticklish to me~!”

Peter could no longer hide his giggles, head falling back as his laughter rang through the quiet room. The only other sounds were his wings thumping against the couch, and Abel’s soft snickers, making it all the more noticeable how silly he sounded.

“Ohokay! Ok! It tickles-!” Peter admitted, gripping onto the cushion in front of him to stop from bolting out of the room on instinct.

“Aw, thank you for being honest with me!” Abel cheerfully answered, before tacking on a mischievous, “-But I’m not done just yet!”

His hands moved from the upper part of his wings, done to the underside, which was even softer and much more sensitive, to Peter’s chagrin. The poor angel fell back into that airy laughter, wings now fully flapping to avoid the intense tickles on his worst spot. And it only seems to increase as Abel moved farther down, then around, to where the wings met his back.

Truthfully, he’d finished preening him a few minutes ago. But he didn’t feel like stopping just yet.

Eventually, his urges got the better of him, and he abandoned the helpful pretense altogether. He wiggled his fingers into Peter’s wingpits, making him squeal and flop forward onto the couch, trying to squirm around to hide his wings underneath him.

He was mostly successful after a few more minutes of ticklish motivation, now lying on his back and looking up at Abel with a dopey big smile. His face was flushed, his curls a mess, but he definitely looked happier than he had earlier.

“Youhou’re so mean!” Peter whined, throwing the pillow he’d been hugging up at Abel.

Abel just laughed as it whapped him lightly, voice warm and affectionate, “What? You said you were worried about me earlier. I’m just trying to show you I can handle myself! Even in Hell!”

Peter scoffed, responding playfully and with a roll of his eyes, “Demons don’t have tickle fights!”

That made Abel pause, and he pretend to think for a moment, “Hmmm… you know, that’s true. But you know what they do have?”

The younger seemed suspicious as to where this was going, but played along anyway, “…What?”

“Cannibals!”

With a sharp squeal, Peter was once again attacked, with Abel tackling him back into the couch with a joking roar, “EEK- HEY-!”

Abel grinned as he looked over his best friend, eyes sparkling with a devilish energy he most certainly inherited from his father, “Any last words?”

Peter gulped, unsure of what exactly was about to happen, but certain it would end in his defeat considering Abel’s head was hovering right over his stomach. So he opened his mouth, trying to stall for time for at least a moment more, “Uhhhh… mercy?”

Abel just chuckled, a fake, evil laugh that was not at all convincing. Then he leaned down and pretended to take a bite out of Peter’s tummy, making exaggerated “nom” sounds as he did. Peter shrieked, his giggles rocketing back up as Abel blew raspberries and teasingly gnawed on one of his death spots. His legs kicked uselessly under the other’s weight, arms stuck under Abel’s grasp. But his laughter wasn’t panicked, or forced- In fact, he sounded outright giddy.

Gosh, he’d needed this.

So even after Abel had reduced him to a blushing puddle, pulling back with a satisfied smirk, he continued smiling loopily. He blinked a few tears away, dazed but ultimately in a state of calm he hadn’t felt in months, “Ehehe… oh goodness… aha…”

He didn’t even notice the way Abel was gazing at him, eyebrows pinched up with a look of pure adoration that was impossible to hide. But luckily, Abel had managed to quell it just enough by the time Peter was able to see straight again.

The Saint tilted his head, his voice utterly smitten, “…Thanks, Abel.”

Abel shrugged, a little shy now that he was the one getting the attention, “Oh, hah… Just… doing what friends do.”

There was a pause at that, something uncertain, unspoken, but ultimately understood between the two of them by the time it passed. Because in the very next moment, Abel leaned down just a fraction more, allowing Peter to lift up and meet his lips for a kiss.