Work Text:
There was fur on Crowley’s trousers. White fur, at that, contrasting horribly with his solid black attire.
It was outrageous. And worst of all, as far as Crowley could tell, there was no way — whether man-made or miraculous in nature — to keep feline fur off clothing, short of avoiding cats altogether.
Which meant the situation was hopeless.
“You’re lucky I put up with you,” he told the cat curled contentedly in his lap.
She purred smugly, in a way that strongly suggested As if you have any choice in the matter.
Crowley muttered a derogatory word and rubbed her ears.