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The only time an invitation to drink with a demon made Aziraphale spring to his feet was with Crowley, and in an all too familiar rush, he locked up the store. The whole Gabriel situation left Aziraphale a little rattled, to be quite frank, and a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape would do quite nicely. He flipped the sign to read “Closed” and locked the door. On his way to the wine he passed Crowley, who was lounging on one of his nicer chairs, and he offered a soft smile. Crowley returned the gesture with a nod and a smirk. As much as he would’ve liked to hide it, Aziraphale had a wine cellar built into the bookshop a couple years after he realized that the late-night wine-and-dines with Crowley were a regular occurence. He had to store the wine for a long time, and he drank it too, it wasn’t only for Crowley. Aziraphale searched the shelves and found the Châteauneuf-du-Pape then headed back to where his friend was waiting.
“I think I have to adopt a cat now,” Aziraphale said as he poured Crowley a glass.
Crowley laughed and grabbed it by the stem. “Why? I wasn’t convincing enough?”
“Oh, you certainly were a convincing cat, my dear. Did you see the state my shop is in?” Aziraphale took a sip of his wine. “But I wouldn’t want them to come back and realize I didn’t have one. What would I do then?”
“Well, you could always say it died,” Crowley suggested.
“Crowley! That’s awful, I could never!” Aziraphale was mortified.
“Why not? Cats get old. How would you even take care of a real cat when we’re so busy?” Crowley said and took a long drink of wine.
“Not this one!” Aziraphale threw a hand down in protest. “There are… automated ways to take care of a cat. She’ll be fine.”
Crowley tried to be flippant about the issue. In reality, he was afraid of Aziraphale getting a cat. They always seemed to hate him. Hundreds of cats have hissed at, hid from, and attacked him. If there was one in the bookshop, he wouldn’t feel welcome anymore. That was the last thing he wanted. The bookshop was their place, not just Aziraphale’s. It was private and safe. If they only ever met at St. James’ Park and the Ritz, Crowley wasn’t sure what he’d do. Probably spontaneously combust.
“You really think they’ll come back and check up on you? If they haven’t found out about us, how would they find a cat?” Crowley asked.
“Well, look what just happened, Crowley! Gabriel came all the way to bloody Soho just to tell me to watch over a priest! Why wouldn’t they follow up on my shop cat?”
“Okay, I’ll give you that.” Crowley drank more wine to give himself time to think.
“That’s that, then!” Aziraphale yelled and looked Crowley in the eye.
“Hey! I was going to come up with something,” Crowley protested.
“You can come up with the name , Crowley.” Aziraphale smiled at the demon and poured more wine. “And it can’t be Bentley. That’s not a name.”
Crowley sighed and looked at Aziraphale. He took his glasses off, not ready to concede just yet. “I really don’t think this is a good idea, Angel.”
Aziraphale tilted his head, taking note of how serious Crowley had gotten. He let out a soft sigh and a tender smile. “Crowley, my dear, it’s just a cat. It’ll be okay. If it’s really such an issue, you can come help me pick her out. We’ll be together every step of the way.” He stared into Crowley’s snake eyes.
Crowley’s expression softened, and his sclera began to disappear. He averted his gaze in a sudden wave of vulnerability. He hated himself just a little bit more for being so afraid. He mustered up courage and forced himself to look at Aziraphale. “What if she doesn’t like me?” He finally managed.
“Oh, Crowley. I couldn’t ever imagine that happening.” The angel placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder and rubbed gently. “I think perhaps you’ve had too much wine?”
He knew that wasn’t true.
“Yeah. Must have,” Crowley said plainly.
It wasn’t the wine. It was the fear.
You take over my house and home
You even try to answer my telephone
Delilah, you're the apple of my eyes
“Crowley, dear? Are you ready to go?” Aziraphale had to raise his voice as Crowley was halfway across the book shop.
Crowley couldn’t help but wince as he thought about how many cats would certainly hiss at him today. “Yes, Angel,” he called back reluctantly.
They had spent the night drinking and talking; Crowley desperately avoided the topic of the cat when he could. It was like a plague to him, but he couldn’t help but entertain the thought that maybe Aziraphale was right. Maybe there was a cat that would like him. Or at least not despise him. Tolerance was the goal.
Aziraphale approached Crowley and strained to look through his sunglasses. He furrowed his eyebrows and spoke: “Crowley. We will find a cat that likes you. I promise.”
Crowley waved his hand nonchalantly and turned away from the angel. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” He walked towards the exit.
“I don’t,” Aziraphale said with certainty.
Crowley had been leaning against the wall outside the shop for some time before Aziraphale finally joined him. He tilted his head back and kicked himself off the wall, looking at Aziraphale without turning his head towards him. “Took you long enough.”
“I need to make sure I have everything, Crowley. From what I hear, adoption isn’t just waltzing in and taking a cat home.” Aziraphale walked towards the Bentley.
“Then why are you doing it?” Crowley still hoped Aziraphale would change his mind. He really didn’t want to deal with a cat.
“Because, my dear, I have to. And I want to,” Aziraphale said as he opened the door to the Bentley. “I really don’t understand why it’s such an issue!” He climbed in.
Crowley contorted his face in mockery. The complete absence of alcohol in his system was doing wonders for his repression. He wouldn’t tell Aziraphale why it was an issue – not really. He entered the Bentley and started it.
The ride to the shelter was significantly quicker than it should have been thanks to Crowley’s miraculous driving. They careened through the streets of London at a comfortable 92 miles per hour, shortly arriving in Battersea. When they came to a stop, Aziraphale still held fast to the door, his grip threatening to break something. He was a touch rattled to say the least.
“Come on, then,” Crowley said with a wave of his hand as he got out of the Bentley.
Aziraphale took a moment to compose himself before exiting the car. “Right.” He stood up. “Shall we?” He gestured across the street to the shelter and shut the car door.
Crowley sauntered across the street, not bothering to check for cars, and turned around when he realized Aziraphale was not beside him. Unfortunately for Crowley, he happened to turn around just as he got to the curb. Two things happened. One, he saw Aziraphale just two steps behind him, and two, he began tumbling towards the earth. His glasses flew off his face but, in an unprecedented act of athleticism, Aziraphale leapt forward just in time to catch Crowley before he collided with the pavement. Aziraphale was bright red. He helped Crowley upright as quick as possible, but still made a point of brushing him off.
Crowley was about to say something to Aziraphale when a high-pitched voice and a tug on his sleeve pulled his attention away. “Excuse me, Mister.”
He looked down and saw a young boy with black hair holding his glasses.
“You dropped these, Mister.” He looked up at Crowley. Their eyes locked and the boy spoke in surprise, “Woah! You have cat eyes! That’s so cool, Mister!”
“Um, not quite, kid. Thanks.” Crowley took the glasses and put them back on his face. They were remarkably resilient.
Aziraphale smiled and patted the young boy on the shoulder. “He’s a rather cool cat wouldn’t you say?”
The young boy laughed and nodded his head. “Be careful next time, Mister Cat,” he said and continued on his way.
“Mister Cat,” Aziraphale said smugly.
“Shut it.”
They continued to the shelter and much to Aziraphale’s surprise, Crowley held the door open for the angel; an unusually kind gesture perhaps masked by a touch of snark and annoyance. Or perhaps a subtle thank you. Aziraphale smiled at the act, not out of politeness but adoration.
He glanced back to make sure Crowley was following and searched for the closest employee. It was a young woman, no more than 25 years old. Surely a volunteer. She was a touch heavyset and of a darker complexion. Aziraphale smiled as he approached her. “Hello, um, excuse me. We were looking to adopt a cat?” he asked.
“You’re free to go look at them, Sir,” she answered, gesturing with her hands to a hallway behind her. “If you make a decision, come to the front and we’ll go through the necessary background checks and documentation.” Satisfied with her explanation, the young lady walked away with a polite smile.
The pair watched her leave then turned to look at each other. “Oh, dear. I didn’t consider background checks, Crowley,” Aziraphale said.
“I told you it was a bad idea, Angel,” Crowley said, turning tightly on one heel towards the exit.
“No.” Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s arm to stop him. “I can always– Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to– I can just perform a miracle.”
“What happened to Gabriel’s iron fist for frivolous miracles?”
“Just one would be fine, I think,” Aziraphale said with a small nod. “Yes, it will be fine.”
“That’s what they all say, Angel,” Crowley sighed. “Come on, then. If you say it’s fine.”
Aziraphale wasn’t entirely certain that it would be fine, but he was more determined to find a cat that liked Crowley than he was concerned about Gabriel. For the time being, at least.
Just around the corner there was a pair of kittens mewling inside a cage, and a paper hanging on the kennel told of their status as soon-to-have-a-forever-home kittens. Never one to resist anything sweet, Aziraphale waggled a finger inside the cage. The kittens, one black and one tabby, whined louder and fought to rub against the angel’s finger. Behind Aziraphale’s back, a soft smile grew on Crowley’s face. He’d lie to himself about why he smiled. He didn’t like cats and he shouldn’t like Aziraphale, so it was obviously something else. He wasn’t entirely sure on what that something else happened to be, he simply knew it had to be.
“Angel.” Crowley spoke softly, tapping Aziraphale on the shoulder. He flicked his head down the hall, signalling a desire to move on.
“Oh, yes. Terribly sorry.” Aziraphale turned in time to see Crowley’s gesture. He put his attention back on the kittens to say a formal goodbye and continued down the hall with Crowley.
Just a couple doors down, a sign read ‘CATS’. No frills there. They walked up to the door and Crowley froze. Aziraphale pushed one hand to open the door before realizing Crowley was no longer beside him.
“Crowley?” he asked, turning to look for his friend.
It wasn’t like a demon to be so fearful, especially for something so insignificant. They were just small animals, really. Crowley was a timeless, practically immortal entity, and he had the power to alter reality. But he was terrified. He’d been scared before; of what Hell would do if they found out about Aziraphale, about the arrangement, his plants dying. He’d been scared thousands of times, but never like this. Never in front of Aziraphale. Or at least, that’s what he thought. “Go- um. Look." He was struggling to control his body. "Look at them without me.”
Aziraphale walked towards Crowley with soft and measured steps. Fear normally empowered Crowley. It made him a terrifying and cruel man, one you'd be foolish to cross. Time and time again, Aziraphale had proved foolish in that regard. But he was frozen now. This time, Aziraphale would be foolish to walk away, and for once, he was determined to be smart about it.
With careful consideration, Aziraphale thought about his coming actions and words. There were moments in the past where Aziraphale would fall into Crowley’s self-destructive trap and lash out in turn, but the demon’s complete lack of, well, anything, sent shivers through Aziraphale. “Crowley, my dear. What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing because you can’t even move, so I know that is not true.”
Absence.
Crowley felt weak, felt drained. His body was stiff yet fragile. He was in a drought. He struggled to find his voice.“I- I can’t, Angel.”
“I’m not entirely sure I understand what the problem is, Crowley, but please believe me when I say that I am here for you.” Aziraphale gently and ever so carefully placed a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “Remember? Lend a hand when needed.”
Crowley painstakingly dragged his eyes up to meet Aziraphale's gaze, the yellow barely visible through his sunglasses but the fear unmistakable. Aziraphale's eyes glistened with concern and something else– something softer. Aziraphale smiled and squeezed Crowley’s shoulder gently. “I promise you will be okay no matter what,” Aziraphale said, never looking away. "I'm here."
Crowley looked away and, for the first time ever, took deep breaths. He read in a Cosmo that breathing deep for ten seconds calms the mind, but he had never tried it before. Turns out, it was sound advice. He felt control returning to his body, Aziraphale's touch helping to ground him. Aziraphale tilted his head with equal parts confusion and intrigue. Crowley looked back up and said, “Stay close.” His eyes said please .
Aziraphale nodded and walked shoulder-to-shoulder with Crowley. The pair stepped towards the door, and Aziraphale placed a hand flat against it. “Are you absolutely certain you’ll be okay, Crowley?” he asked, concern raising the lilt of his voice.
“Yes, Angel,” Crowley said flatly. The fear was nowhere near gone from his eyes, but Aziraphale believed him. “Can we get this over with?”
“Of course,” Aziraphale watched Crowley carefully.
Aziraphale pushed the door open with a gentle touch, taking care to not go too fast. Crowley stuck to him like glue. Under any other circumstance, the angel would be delighted at the affection; instead, he was heartbroken. They stepped into the room slowly. Pardon the cats, it was empty. That was good.
Aziraphale took a quick look around and realized something was off. “Something’s wrong. I think,” he said.
“Look closer, Angel.” Crowley pointed at the kennels. “They’re scared of me.”
Every cat in sight was cowering in the corner of their cages, pupils dilated. Some had arched backs and tails like static, but none hissed. “W-well that’s ridiculous . Why would they be scared of you?” Aziraphale asked.
Crowley dipped his sunglasses down, trying to help the oblivious angel. His yellow, slitted eyes stared into the other’s. Aziraphale trailed his view to the tattoo below Crowley’s right ear and realization struck. “Right. A snake,” Aziraphale said softly. “How can they know?”
“Not sure. Smell, sight. Who knows...” Crowley said with an exasperated gesture. “It’s always been this way.” His expression transformed from fear to disappointment and shame.
Aziraphale noticed.
“Oh. Oh, no. Darling, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have made you come.” Aziraphale looked into Crowley’s eyes with desperation and remorse, practically saying ‘ I swear I’ll never do this again but please, you must be honest with me next time because I’m not a mind reader.’
Crowley opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by a soft meow. The pair shared a confused look, searching noncommittally for the source. A louder meow came. And then another. Aziraphale walked around the corner of the room and found the culprit.
“Crowley, come here.” He waved his hand towards Crowley. “It’s okay.”
Comfort was important. He didn’t want to force Crowley to do anything he didn’t want to do, but this cat wasn’t scared and that was something Aziraphale would capitalize on.
Crowley approached with caution and a tinge of fear.
The cat looked between them, sitting pretty and meowing loudly in her cage. She had brilliant white fur like snow, painted with red at her points: her face, her ears, her toes, and a lovely gradient on her tail. Her remarkably stout stature was emphasized by how lush and soft her fur was. The tips of her ears had tufts, and that in combination with her brilliant blue eyes cast a striking resemblance to a lynx.
“He’s.. not afraid?” Crowley said with uncertainty.
“She,” Aziraphale corrected.
“What?”
“‘Hi, my name is Angel. I’m a 5 year old Balinese mix, and my vaccinations are up to date and I am spayed ’ ,” Aziraphale read off the infographic sheet next to her cage. It detailed her life, medical conditions, and more.
Curious, Crowley gently pushed Aziraphale over to read the excerpt. “Does it say anything about snakes?”
“Um. Under ‘Medical’ I’d say,” Aziraphale thought out loud. “Uh, ‘I was brought here 3 years ago after a tragic fire.’ How sad. ‘The veterinarians saved my life, but I lost my sense of smell and sight. But I can still hear you call my name and come running!’” he read.
“So… she can’t tell?” Crowley asked, testing his luck by placing a finger in between the bars. He was met with an affectionate nuzzle from the cat but instinctively pulled away at the touch. “Sorry.”
“It’s not a problem, my dear,” Aziraphale said, the hand once again returning to Crowley’s shoulder. “I suppose she really is an angel.”
“We’ve got to change her name, you know.” Crowley said.
“Nonsense. Why would we?” Aziraphale asked.
“She’d come running any time I talk to you.”
“Oh.” Aziraphale said. “I suppose you do call me ‘Angel’ often.”
Angel cried out at the sound of her name.
“See what I mean?” Crowley smirked. “Being around one angel is enough.”
Another meow.
“Right. So you want her, then?” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up.
“No.” Crowley said. “You do. And she doesn’t hate me, so that’s fine.”
He did want her. Having an animal he could trust would be nice. Of course, he’d still fear other cats, that was something he couldn’t just will away, but having even just one friendly face makes all the difference. That Crowley knew more than anyone.
“Okay, well. I did say you could name her, but I have rules.” Aziraphale said, providing his usual mix of generosity and strictness. “Her name has to be cute, it cannot be a person’s name. Or demon! And, um, it can’t be Bentley.”
“Okay, that’s a lot. It’s just a name, Aziraphale. Why can’t we just name her Cat?” Crowley suggested with genuine sincerity.
“Crowley. That’s ridiculous.”
“Why? It’s simple and cute!”
“Crowley.”
“Fine. You name her, then,” Crowley snapped.
Aziraphale let a slight pout appear on his face, but he knew Crowley wasn’t going to come up with anything better. He turned away from Crowley and looked into Angel’s eyes. “Delilah,” he said fondly.
“Hey, wait.” Crowley made a disgusting, offended noise. “You said they can’t have people names!”
“Well. It’s a pretty name.” Aziraphale defended his rules and the evident flexibility of them. “Now, let’s get this sorted, shall we?”
With their decision made, the pair returned to the front desk. Aziraphale searched for the young woman they had met on the way in. He spotted her dark hair moving behind a shelf and called out, “Um! Excuse me, ma’am!” She turned to look at him and he smiled. “Hi. Us again.”
Annoyed by the politeness and frank lack of concision, Crowley butted in. “We’d like to adopt a cat.”
It was Aziraphale’s turn to let out an offended noise.
“Relax, Angel,” Crowley said, finally returning Aziraphale’s calming arm squeeze.
The woman smiled at Crowley’s words and gestured to the front desk. “Right, then. Come over to the desk, you’ll have to fill out some papers.”
Aziraphale and Crowley followed closely behind her. Aziraphale stood politely by the desk as she searched for the proper forms, and Crowley leaned haphazardly against it.
“So, was there any particular cat you had in mind?” She asked as she continued to rummage through drawers.
“Oh, yes! We wanted to adopt Angel.” Aziraphale sported a proud smile.
She looked up and met his eyes with an impressively large smile, exuding nothing but tender approval. “She’s been here so long, you know, we never thought anyone would adopt her.” She put a stack of papers on the desk. “I just have to make sure, but can you handle her? She’d been adopted once then returned. It was heartbreaking.” Her smile turned sour.
“Yes, please don’t worry. I’m quite good at taking care of animals, and to be quite honest, her disabilities will help, um, Anthony.” Aziraphale gestured towards Crowley.
The demon offered a forced smile as his name was mentioned.
“Oh? Is he, um, going blind as well?” she asked hesitantly, making note of his dark glasses.
“Um, it’s more of a therapeutic thing, I think,” Aziraphale quickly fibbed. “So, um, what documents do you need?”
“Right, well, we just need some photo ID with your address, and a proof of residence. A lease or a recent bill will suffice.” She said. “We’d also like to meet everyone in your household before you take her home, just in case.” She rifled through papers. “Do you two have children, or is it just you and your husband? She won’t do well with kids.”
Aziraphale’s face shot red and Crowley stifled a laugh. “I’m sorry?” Aziraphale asked.
“Well, kids tend to play rough with animals, and she needs gentle care so it’s safer–”
“No, I’m sorry.” Aziraphale cut her off. “But what did you mean by my husband?”
“Are you two not–?” She pointed her pen carefully at Crowley, who had a devilish smirk. “Oh, I’m so sorry. He called you Angel, so I assumed…” She trailed off in embarrassment.
Aziraphale averted his gaze, the blush never leaving. “No, it’s okay. Terribly sorry. Um, so it’s just me at the shop.”
“The shop?”
“Oh, yes! Apologies. I run a small bookshop, I live upstairs. She’ll be quite alright there. Very cozy and quiet.”
She smiled. “Yes, I’m certain she will be.”
Crowley stood by in idle amusement. Watching a flustered Aziraphale desperately struggle to stay composed was decadent. The angel floundered through the adoption papers, miracling paperwork as needed and apologizing profusely. Crowley noticed Aziraphale relaxing and decided to have some fun. “We’d also like to change her name,” Crowley said unprompted. “We don’t want her to come running any time I call for him,” he said as he leaned on Aziraphale’s shoulder.
The employee let out a muted chuckle as Aziraphale jolted upright, his blush returning much quicker than it had disappeared. He choked. “Right. Um. We’d like to– Well if it’s no trouble and indeed okay, we’d like to– well, I , would like to, um, call her Delilah.”
Crowley was smug.
“Yes, of course. I’d imagine that would be confusing for her.” She smiled at Crowley. “It’s just on the form, right here at the top.”
Crowley watched in silent satisfaction as the angel rushed to finish the paperwork. As per procedure, they would have to wait until the following day to pick up Delilah, but Crowley didn’t mind. He figured Aziraphale would let him spend the night. Business turning into personal and all that. Afterall, the adoption was technically business, what with Aziraphale’s crippling fear of Gabriel checking for a cat and all.
Aziraphale had, in fact, invited Crowley to stay the night. Again. It was one part business two parts pleasure. They started the journey for Delilah together and by God were they going to finish it together. It was nearing 8:30 a.m. and Aziraphale was restless. Normally the only length of time that felt remotely long to Aziraphale was a hundred years, but these precious few thirty minutes felt like an eternity. This was quite a feat as far as Aziraphale was concerned.
Crowley tried to stifle his excitement but failed miserably. He was quite proficient with hiding emotions, but something about Delilah had him positively shining. He’d been fearful for some odd 4,000 years but here Delilah was, breaking down everything he knew and feared. She would certainly help him cope more than anything else has in the past. Crowley was well aware that the fear would still be there, Delilah couldn’t cure that, but he would never protest to feeling comfortable around another being.
The two chatted amicably about their lives, the future, and—of course—Delilah. The instant the clock struck 8:45 a.m., Aziraphale shot up and dragged Crowley out the door. This was a big day for all three of them, and Aziraphale didn’t want to waste any time. Crowley was okay with that.
They rushed across the street to the Bentley with poorly masked excitement. Crowley may have driven a touch faster than usual, but for once Aziraphale found himself not afraid. As a result, they arrived far too early at the shelter. It wasn’t open yet. “Oh, bugger. We’re much too early, Crowley.” Aziraphale noted the time.
“I’ve been waiting for 4,000 years to meet a cat that didn’t hate me, Angel. I can wait five more minutes.”
“I suppose it isn’t that long,” Aziraphale said. “I have waited longer than that for, um, things, as well.” He looked out the window, refusing eye contact.
“For what?” Crowley asked.
“Oh, nothing.”
“Well, it must be something otherwise why would you have waited for it?”
“Really, it was nothing, Crowley.”
“Angel.”
“Just things, Crowley.”
“I thought angels couldn’t lie.” Crowley raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale’s reluctance.
Aziraphale sat in silence and held his gaze on the pedestrians passing by. He really was a terrible liar, it was honestly a miracle that Gabriel believed the shop cat. Although, to an Archangel that was possibly more believable than 'Oh, my deepest apologies, that's just my demon best friend come to visit with chocolates and flowers! Don't mind him!'
“Oh! Would you look at the time!” Aziraphale shouted with forced exuberance. “Let’s go get Delilah, shall we?”
Crowley sighed as Aziraphale shot out of the Bentley. He wasn’t one to pry into the angel’s personal affairs, but he couldn’t imagine what Aziraphale would possibly wait that long for.
Crowley followed Aziraphale, his usual saunter a touch subdued. It wasn’t likely he’d forget about that conversation any time soon. Aziraphale walked much faster than normal to the shelter but still made a point to wait and hold the door for Crowley. He couldn’t help but be chivalrous–if you could call it that. He would.
Aziraphale lagged behind.
Demons were good with faces, more so than angels; they had to be. Crowley instantly recognized the woman sitting at the front desk. She was the same one who helped them yesterday. Also the one who teased Aziraphale. Crowley remembered her fondly. “Hello, miss.”
She shot her head up and smiled. “Hello again, Sir. Anthony, was it? Is your boyf–”
“Good morning Ma’am.” Aziraphale cut her off—not on purpose—as he caught up to Crowley.
“Good morning, Sir.” She sat up properly. “You’re here for Angel—sorry—Delilah, right?”
“Indeed. I believe all of her accommodations are in order. She’ll be right as rain,” Aziraphale said with a smile.
Crowley wandered around the front area, which sold all sorts of animal goods. He admired the rows of fully stocked shelves as Aziraphale went over logistics.
“Wonderful. We’ve just got a couple final papers for you to sign before everything’s sorted.” She smiled and handed Aziraphale several papers containing several words and several lines for him to sign.
“How delightful,” Aziraphale said, genuinely. He was more fond of signing his name than a person should be, but this could be largely attributed to his passion for fountain pens, of which he always kept on his person.
“Angel,” Crowley called.
“Yes, dear?”
The woman didn’t understand how she was meant to think they weren’t married.
“Nip over here quickly, would you?”
Aziraphale offered a polite smile to the employee and muttered a curt apology. “What is it Crowley?” he said as he found himself beside the demon.
“We didn’t buy any cat food, did we?”
“Oh, dear. We certainly didn’t.”
“A litter box but no food,” Crowley said, more to himself than to Aziraphale.
“Um. Just grab some of the wet kind. The expensive ones.”
“Can you afford to miracle any more money?” Crowley asked. An odd question for any eavesdroppers.
“Yes, Crowley. No one Up There is going to question me needing more funds! Just buy the cat food, please.” Aziraphale snapped.
Crowley knew well and good not to mess with a testy Aziraphale. He grabbed a handful—more accurately, an armful—of the most luxurious Pâté available.
The angel returned to the counter with apologetic words. He grabbed his pen and returned to the joyous activity of signing over and over again, humming jovially as they went.
“Perfect. Was that the last one?” Aziraphale asked, eyeing Crowley from the corner of his eye. He was fumbling with the cans, surely holding far too many.
“Yes. You’re all set to take Delilah home, Sir. I’ll show you to her,” she said.
A loud crash alerted Aziraphale and the employee. They turned to see a hunched over Crowley staring at dozens of cans that had freshly fallen. He looked up at the pair, embarrassment obvious despite his eyes being obscured ; they were wide and certainly dilated, for clarity. “Um. We want to buy this.” He gestured to the cans that littered the ground.
“Right.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m showing Mr. Fell to Delilah. I’m sure that’s enough time for you to get those to the counter, Anthony?” Her question was less of a question and more of a demand.
Aziraphale blushed from second hand embarrassment and followed the employee down the hall.
By the time they return, the cat food would be neatly stacked on the counter, but Crowley most assuredly did not touch a single can.
“Oh, is this her?” Aziraphale asked, pointing to a cage with a blanket over it.
“Um, no, Sir. She’s in a separate room. Needs special care and all that,” the employee explained.
“Oh. Quite right.”
She decided to take a chance to clear the air and asked Mr. Fell, “So, pardon my asking but, if you and Anthony aren’t dating or married, what are you?”
Aziraphale flushed.
With great control, eloquence, and a dash of grace, he said, “Um. Er. We’re, um, I suppose you could call it– us, um. Well, colleagues. Long term. Very long time.”
She smirked. “Colleagues that adopt a cat together. I don’t mean to pry, Sir, you two just seem awfully close. Times have changed, you know. Since you were young that is.”
“Um. I’m not entirely sure I follow, dear. But it’s no bother.” It was a bother. “I suppose he’s my oldest friend. Um, longest?” Oldest.
She chuckled and decided to give him a break. “Here, Angel’s in this room, Sir.” She rested a hand on the door knob just beside her.
“Oh, thank you, dear.” Aziraphale grew a genuine smile.
“You do have a cat carrier right?”
Delilah, Delilah, oh my, oh my, oh my - you're irresistible - ooh ooh ooh
You make me smile when I'm just about to cry
You bring me hope, you make me laugh - and I like it
You get away with murder, so innocent
But when you throw a moody you're all claws and you bite
That's alright!
“Angel, please keep her off me.” Crowley said through gritted teeth.
Aziraphale struggled to hold onto Delilah, who wasn’t so much scared of Crowley’s reckless driving as she was desperate to sit in his lap. “I’m trying, Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted.
Delilah dug her claws into Crowley’s thigh, begging to lay on his lap. His foot pushed the gas pedal further down and his grip on the wheel tightened.
“ Angel.”
A meow.
“It’s rather difficult at this speed, dear!” Aziraphale grabbed for Delilah’s paws, trying to gingerly pry her claws out of Crowley.
“I’d go slower if I didn’t have claws digging into my bloody leg!”
“Well, she’s got claws. No point fussing over it! Just give me a minute, please.”
Aziraphale wiggled one claw out of Crowley’s trousers then the rest followed. He pulled her away and sat her firmly into his lap.
As promised, Crowley slowed down. What had initially been a mortifying 105 miles now settled into a relaxing 85.
“I think it’s going to take a while for her to stop meowing at ‘Angel’, Angel.”
Meow.
Aziraphale smiled fondly and patted Delilah on the head. “Yes, I do believe so.”
Delilah settled in to the bookshop very well. The quiet atmosphere kept her calm, customers were often so distracted by her that they wouldn’t even try to buy anything, and Aziraphale was free to keep the shop smelling moldy and disgusting—she couldn’t smell, afterall.
Crowley still stopped by the bookshop every few days. It took awhile for him to relax around Delilah, and sometimes Aziraphale still swore he was anxious. Sometimes Delilah would find her way to the back room, their loud conversations too alluring to resist, and she would rub herself on Crowley’s leg and he’d completely stiffen. Aziraphale was nervous every time.
But eventually Crowley stopped noticing. He pet her on his way into the shop one day and had to ask Aziraphale why he wouldn’t stop smiling.
It was only Delilah, though. Other cats were still the enemy. He had just found one angel. A real shame they had to change her name, Crowley thought it fit so well. But Delilah would do.
She still answered to ‘Angel’ for months, but Crowley didn’t mind the attention. Her meows were soft and friendly, and for once Crowley swore he could almost feel love.
And on one memorable occasion, Aziraphale had walked into the sitting room to find something absolutely endearing. Laying on the sofa, fast asleep, was Crowley. Atop him lay Delilah, snuggled right into his arms. Aziraphale smiled a soft and private only-for-Crowley sort of smile. He figured it wouldn’t be so bad to have an angel watching over them while they slept.
When Crowley woke, Aziraphale was still there, sat across from him. “Good morning,”
“G’morning,” Crowley mumbled. He spat out a mouth full of cat hair.
“Delilah was sleeping on you.”
“Yeah, I gathered.” He spat out more cat hair.
“She likes you.”
“I must smell like an angel,” Crowley said.
“She can’t smell, my dear.”
Crowley smiled a soft and private only-for-Aziraphale sort of smile, although that could describe every smile of his.
This was worth the wait.
Delilah - I love you, ha ha
You make me very happy - oooh oh yeah
I love your kisses
I love your kisses
I love your kisses
I love your kisses
I love your your your kisses
I love your kisses