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Crawley was dozing with his back against the Ark's hull when he felt paws walking up his leg. He hissed and opened his eyes. A tabby cat, the female of the pair that Noah had brought aboard, hissed back and dropped a kitten into his lap, where his robe made a hammock.
She stared a question at him, her green, slitted, eyes meeting his gold, slitted, eyes without flinching, until Crawley nodded uncertainly. Then she jumped down from his knee and vanished into the gloom.
Crawley had just enough time to look over at the handful of children he'd managed to smuggle aboard before the doors were sealed and see that they were all still asleep, before the cat returned carrying another kitten.
She dropped the second one beside the first, nuzzled them, and took off again.
After the sixth trip, she didn't leave again. She simply curled herself onto Crawley's lap too. Crawley spluttered wordlessly as he looked down at the pile of small animals. That was his lap! He was the one who got to decide what went there! He wasn't the sort of soft person that small, furry, animals hung out with!
He shifted his weight, and the cat's claws prickled against his skin in warning. "Urrrgkh," he grumbled, but not loud enough to wake anyone up. "'M going back to sleep."
#
He woke to the sound of children laughing, which was a pleasant change from waking up because the children were crying. His lap was empty.
When he opened his eyes, he saw that the adult cat had found a shed feather - one of Crawley's coverts by the size and colour - and was playing with it. Bat, bat, pounce, roll, leap.
The children, meanwhile, were playing with the kittens. The kittens were eager to explore, but they weren't exactly co-ordinated yet, and their stumbles and squeaks were causing the laughter. Crawley gathered his own feet under him with more than usual care, not wanting to imitate the kittens, and took himself off to find Aziraphale, and food for children and cat alike.
He found the angel up on the main deck, reinforcing the miracles that made this whole boat escapade function. First, an enforced peace that prevented any of the animals attacking or killing anything, whether it was each other in the form of predator and prey, or the people aboard fro simple irritation at being cooped up so long. Secondly, an enhancement on the food pantry so that nothing ever went off and nothing ever ran out.
Crawley added some of his own power as extra reinforcement out of self-preservation. Getting discorporated by wild animals was messy and painful and blessed embarrassing. And besides, he'd brought extra mouths aboard, he'd better make sure there was enough food for them. The fact that Aziraphale gave him a very sweet smile every time he realised was beside the point.
"One of the granary mousers has joined my area," he said as the angel collected him the usual day's rations from the renewed pantry for the five children in his care. "I'd best take her rations too." He used that term to distinguish the fact that the cat was a small one, rather than a lion, leopard, lynx, or other big cat.
Aziraphale nodded thoughtfully, and added some extra fish to the basket before handing it to Crawley. "They'll be along soon," he said, tipping his head towards the family quarters. "Best get yourself out of sight again. Mind how you go."
"Going, going," Crawley mumbled back, basket swinging from his hand as he sauntered vaguely back towards the downward ladder. "You c'ld join us," he added over his shoulder. "'F you want." He didn't wait for a reply.
#
Aziraphale did turn up, rather later, with lines of strain laced tight around his eyes like a mask. Crawley had the distinct delight of watching the angel settle himself against the hull, and having the mother cat stalk over and drop one of the kittens in the angel's lap rather than Crawley's.
The angel looked at the ball of fluff shedding black hairs all over his white robe and some of the strain eased. He scooped up the kitten in one strong, plump, hand and began cooing sweet nothings at it. The adult looked smug as only a cat can at having successfully made the area into a general nursery by piling her babies and Crawley's babies together, and stalked over to shove her head against the demon's hand in a clear demand that she got some fuss and attention too.
Crawley stroked her absently, the fur soothing against his fingers, and stamped down on the simmering envy that came from Aziraphale telling the little black kitten how sweet and good and pretty and nice it was.
He was a demon, it wouldn't be safe for him to be described that way anyway, let alone by an angel. But, Someone, did the angel have to do it in front of him, taunting him with the things he could never have?
#
By the time the flood went down, and it was time to leave the ark, the kittens were weaned and independent. Each one had attached itself to one particular child, apart from the little black kitten, which split its time between Crawley and Aziraphale. Crawley worked one last demonic miracle as they left, so that each child registered to the official viewers only as the kitten they each carried - he wasn't going to seperate them from their new pets, they'd all lost enough already in their young lives. He carried the black one, to get out safely, but he couldn't take it to Hell, it was too cute.
"Angel?" he asked, when they were all clear and away out of sight. "You want the kitten? S'more your side's thing than mine."
"Ah. Well." The look in his eyes said yes, the rest of his face said no. "Wrong colour scheme to take Upstairs, you know. Black's more your side's thing."
"Okaaaaay. How about we split the work? You watch it when I'm reporting in, and I'll do the same for you."
The angel thought about it for a long moment and then beamed. "Oh, very well. Temptation accomplished, you fiend."
The kitten, perched on Crawley's shoulder, looked at the pair together, and yowled its approval at this arrangement.
Crawley grinned. He'd gotten used to Aziraphale's company on the ark. Now they had a reason to hang out some more. And all thanks to a cat.