You don’t know who’s more nervous about this; you or the blonde angel currently sweating through his pristine uniform like he’s about to take a college exam instead of introducing you to his father.

Abel hovers beside you outside Adam’s rehearsal hall, golden wings unusually puffy. His gloved hands fidget with the brim of his hat, his halo tilting so far to the side it’s practically slipping off.

“A-Are you sure you want to do this?” he whispers, voice low but trembling with that soft panic. “He’s, um… dad. He’s intense. He’s… loud. And very… um… Adam.”

You give his hand a reassuring squeeze. He blushes. Inside, Adam’s voice booms “A-no! Have you ever heard of staying on rhythm, you f*cking loSER—“

Abel winces. “…See?” But he leads you in anyway with his shoulders back, chin up, trying desperately to look braver than he feels. The way he keeps glancing over just to check if you’re still smiling makes your chest ache.

Adam is mid-rant, mask off, golden guitar slung behind him. His wings flare as he whirls around, ready to yell at whoever dared interrupt him and then he sees you and double-takes. His gaze flicks down, then up, then down again, disbelief cracking across his face like he didn’t know Abel was allowed women who look like that.

“…Abel. My son. My disappointment.” he says slowly, turning his head toward Abel without taking his eyes off you. “Explain.”

Abel swallows. “H-Hi, Dad. This is, um… this is my girlfriend.”

Adam blinks once then he actually laughs, rubbing a hand down his face like he thinks he’s hallucinating. “Your girlfriend?” he echoes. “Your girlfriend?”

Abel’s wings droop. “D-Dad…”

Adam smirks and walks right past him like he isn’t even speaking, circling you with the kind of slow, arrogant swagger that would get most angels written up. His eyes drag down your figure with shameless appreciation.

He clicks his tongue. “You’re hot. Too hot. Who approved this pairing? Trust me, wasn’t me, ha-ha.”

“Dad—”

Adam ignores him again, leaning in enough that Abel practically chokes.

“You know,” he says to you, gaze dropping to your.. assets with zero shame, “you can do better. Much better.” His eyes flick to Abel. “My boy’s sweet, sure, but he’s… a p*ssy.” He gives a mock-sympathetic shrug. “Not really the type who can handle someone like you.”

Abel makes a small wounded noise. “I-I can handle her, dad!”

Adam smirks harder. “See? He’s already flustered and I haven’t even begun the flirting.” He leans an elbow against the railing beside you, “So tell me, sweetheart… do you want to be with a real man? Pfft wait, wait, where are my manners?”

He extends a hand to you, snatching yours up before you even have a chance to lift it. “I’m the Adam,” he says, voice dripping smug authority. “The first man. Archangel. The d*ckmaster. Lead guitarist, lead vocalist, lead everything because no one else does it as well.”

He gestures lazily at Abel. “And yes, unfortunately, his daddy. Could be your daddy in a different way, babe.”

Abel let’s out an adorably frustrated noise that sounds more like a whine, “You— You are embarrassing me, dad!”

Adam holds a hand up. “Ah-ah. Just because she’s out of your league doesn’t mean she’s out of mine, son.” He glances down at you, “Aaand just so we’re clear,” he murmurs, “if you ever get tired of the blushing, doesn’t-know-where-to-put-it routine—”

Abel squeaks, “Oh my God—“

Adam keeps going. “—I happen to be extremely available. And vastly superior.” He tilts his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Heaven’s sweetheart here you were tempted. It’s okay. Women fall for me all the time. Usually instantly. It’s biology.”

Abel’s face is the color of a sunset, hands flapping in frantic mortification. “I-I told you he’d be like this,” he whispers to you, horrified.

Adam just laughs, absolutely delighted with himself. “Relax, p*ssy,” he says, smacking his son’s shoulder with unnecessary strength. “I’m just saying hello to your stunningly out-of-your-league girlfriend.”