Chapter Text
It was a cool spring morning when the demon Crowley stepped onto the back patio of the South Downs cottage to do his daily inspection of their plants. They were placed in spots along the railings, benches, and stairs so the sunlight could shine perfectly onto them in the afternoons, if they were so lucky. Aziraphale chose the flowers at the local nursery after they settled into their cottage, so there were daisies, begonias, roses, and orchids, and although Crowley never cared to grow flowers before, he was inclined to learn how for his angel’s sake.
The South Downs was a far cry from the noise and bustle of London, and they were now close to neighbors with farms and fields. Crowley grew accustomed to the quiet as he spent the majority of the first couple of months sorting his house plants and planting flower beds. The vegetable garden was a challenge for him, but he took advice from some old gardening books Aziraphale offered him. In a few weeks, Crowley spotted tiny sprouts along his row of cabbages and though he was optimistic the garden would do well, old habits die hard. He got onto his knees in the dirt and gave the sprouts a gentle yet firm talking-to. He wasn’t too hard on them; they were just sprouts, after all.
As he inspected the daisies, the toe of his slipper knocked against something. He stepped back and spied a saucer under the bench. This one looked to be Edwardian due to the Imari pattern he recognized from many of their meetings for tea back then. He picked it up and brought it to his nose, and a quick whiff revealed what he had long suspected.
He looked around and over the railings but couldn’t find anything lurking or hiding from him, so he took the saucer and opened the French doors that led into the kitchen where he found his husband pouring fresh coffee into a pair of mugs.
Aziraphale smiled when he saw him. “Good morning, dear.” He set his red coffee mug on the counter in front of him and gave him a quick peck on the lips. The peck became a kiss on his cheek and then his neck, and Crowley couldn’t help but wrap an arm around the angel’s waist.
“Sleep well?” he asked him.
Aziraphale nuzzled into his shoulder-length crimson locks and kissed behind his ear. “Yes, my darling. You were wonderful last night.”
Crowley smirked and he gripped the saucer as his angel’s caresses sent warmth into his chest. “Aziraphale…”
“Mm, yes love?”
“I found something amongst your daisies just now.”
“More snails? I used to use coffee grounds in the Dowling garden. Forms a barrier but doesn’t harm them.”
Crowley lifted the saucer and placed it on the counter, and when Aziraphale saw it he smiled again.
“Oh!” He gave him a side glance before picking up the saucer. “There, um…you found it! Thank you, love.” He set it in the sink and picked up his coffee to join his side again. “You found it by the daisies?”
“Under the bench, yes.” Crowley slurped his coffee and put a hand on his hip. “Why was one of your King Edward Coronation teacup saucers under our bench with traces of cream on it?”
“Oh, well…you know, like you said…garden pests and the like…”
“Heavy cream doesn’t get rid of snails, angel. But it does attract a certain stray cat that’s been wandering around.”
Aziraphale only looked away and sipped his coffee.
“You’re feeding it. I bloody knew it!”
“She’s so thin, Crowley. Poor thing looks like she hasn’t eaten in weeks and when I saw her limping around in the garden the other day, well…I couldn’t help it. I gave her some of our ham a few days ago and some water, and yes…I’ve been leaving cream out in the evening for her.”
“Angel…”
“A cat would be great in the garden, love. She could keep away the field mice and the moles...”
“That’s not—”
“And she’s so cute. She’s got the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“Hey.”
Aziraphale laughed. “After yours, of course. Darling, what harm am I really doing in feeding her?”
“Has she got a collar?”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“For all we know, she could have some sort of illness or—”
“We could take her to the veterinarian, then.”
Crowley frowned. “She’s not ours, angel.”
“Why can’t she be? I haven’t seen any fliers around town or on the library notice board about a missing cat. It’s possible she was abandoned. She would have a collar if she belonged to someone, yes? And anyway, we can put out fliers and keep her here in the meantime.”
Crowley shook his head. “You could have done that when you first found her in the garden. But no, you had to feed her and now she’s hanging around. And why did you hide all this from me anyway?.”
“Because I knew you would react this way. You don’t like it when my attention isn’t on you. And yes, I know I could have placed fliers up before but…well, I like having her around. Call me selfish.”
Crowley smoothed back his hair and took a breath. “First of all, not true about me being so insecure of a cat wooing your affections away. Give me more credit than that, angel. Secondly, I don’t think you’re selfish for wanting to take care of a hungry animal, but I don’t like the fact that you kept it a secret from me.”
Aziraphale sighed. “I’m sorry, love. I was going to tell you soon, but—"
“Darling…I’m a snake. Cats and snakes don’t get along.”
“You were attacked by a cat, you mean.”
“Only once, years ago, but that one time was enough!”
“While you were a snake?”
“Of course while I was a--! Look, I decided to take the form of a grass snake one day and nearly got slurped up by a cat. It’s an encounter I never want to relive.”
“Oh, Eden wouldn’t do that.”
Crowley nearly spat out his coffee. He swallowed hard and glared at him. “You named her?!”
Aziraphale shrugged. “I think it’s a good name.”
“Angel!”
“She never has to see you.”
“I live here!”
“If you’re so afraid of being attacked again—”
“I don’t give a damn about that! In human form, I can easily fend her off. But she could take one look at me, see the demon that I am, and run off! Then you’ll be hurt because you’ve obviously become so attached to her!”
Aziraphale paused and set down his coffee mug. “You don’t want this cat around because you don’t want my feelings hurt if she’s afraid of you?” Crowley leaned against the counter as his angel gushed. “That’s adorable.”
“Shut up.”
Aziraphale put his arms around his waist. “You’re always thinking of me, you sweet old fool.”
“I’m warning you.”
His angel kissed him, and Crowley melted against him as the warmth in his chest spread to his stomach. Aziraphale rested his cheek on his shoulder and nuzzled the black Terry cloth of his dressing gown. “I promise I won’t get upset if she doesn’t like you.”
Crowley kissed his cheek. “I’ve seen glimpses of her. Ginger cat, right?”
“Yes, that’s her. With ginger eyes and a patch of white on her chest.”
He stroked the angel’s soft curls. “Why Eden?”
“Because I found her in a garden. Just came to me. She looked regal with her eyes and fluffy tail, and I thought to myself, ‘She’d be a queen in Eden.’ I know it’s silly.”
Crowley grinned as he smoothed his hair back again. “Okay, if she does like me, we’ll take her to the vet and get her a check-up. Then we’ll put up some fliers.”
“Really?” The angel’s eyes glowed with hope.
“Promise you won’t get upset if she belongs to someone?”
“Of course I won’t.” He raised his hopeful gleam to him. “And…if she doesn’t?”
Crowley knew that gleam in his angel’s eyes well, and even after 6000 years he still gave into it. “We’ll keep her.”
“Can she stay inside?”
“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”
There was a sudden clicking of claws on the glass panes of the French doors and Aziraphale squeezed him. “Right on schedule.”
Crowley turned and got a perfect view of the short-haired, orange-eyed feline that now sat daintily with her fluffy tail wrapped around her feet. That same fluffy tail was what Crowley would catch in his peripherals while working in the garden.
“Come along.” Aziraphale carefully opened the door and the cat let out a high-pitched mew. “Good morning, Eden darling. I have someone who wants to meet you.” He turned to Crowley. “Do fetch a can of tuna, dear.”
“We have tuna?”
“It’s in the pantry behind the bottle bins.”
Crowley went to look and smirked when he realized that this was the perfect hiding place if one wanted to sneak-feed a stray. He opened the can and heard the cat meow again.
“Patience, love,” the angel soothed her. “Breakfast is served. Stir it with a spoon so she can easily—”
“I got it.” Crowley did as he was instructed and pushed the tin of tuna past the door. He watched the cat take a step forward and tilt her head to get a look at him.
“Come out, Crowley. She knows you’re in there.”
He gulped and conjured up a pair of his sunglasses and stepped over the tuna can onto the patio. The cat stared up at him as she sat down again, her tail lying flat around her. She let out a soft meow and held up her paw.
“Now what?” he asked.
Aziraphale smiled. “Sit down and take those glasses off.”
Crowley sat across from them, and the cat’s eyes followed him. “I put the glasses on for a reason, love.”
“She can clearly smell you. If she was afraid, she would have run off by now. Besides, you have the same eyes.”
“Do cats know what their eyes look like, then?”
Aziraphale huffed. “I don’t know. Please take those off.”
Crowley sighed and hesitated as he moved his hands to his face. He quickly took them off.
“Open your eyes.”
He and the cat stared at each other for a moment until she cautiously moved toward him. Crowley kept still as she sniffed his hands, robe, and sunglasses, and with a flick of her tail she trilled and turned her attention to her breakfast. Her purring and trilling continued as she smacked every bite, and Crowley looked toward Aziraphale who was beaming.
“Okay,” said Crowley. “I’ll admit it…she’s bloody cute.”
The angel looked satisfied. “I told you.”
Crowley continued to watch Eden eat her tuna, and every now and then she would pause to lick around her mouth as she looked up at him. That’s when Crowley noticed the small white patch on her chest that looked almost like a heart.
He also noticed a dried patch of scaly skin along her side.
“What’s wrong with her fur?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. I was afraid to heal it for her.”
Crowley pulled out his mobile from his robe pocket and typed in a search. “Mange. It’s like a rash. Says here it can be treated with apple cider vinegar.”
“Poor thing would stink.”
“Either that or a cream from the vet. We’ll have to take her anyway.” The cat paused in her eating and rubbed her cheek against Crowley’s knee. “We just met and already you’re a handful,” he told her.