Ineffable Family

Chapter 31

TW: PTSD flashback, discussion of animal euthanasia that DOES NOT HAPPEN

Morning dawned with a terrified scream.

Aziraphale shoved Crowley off him as he sat up; by the time he'd scrambled across the bed to the window, she was human-shaped, shielding Hope.

"It's Muriel," Aziraphale reported. "Stay here, I'll check on them."

A bit awkwardly given his pudgy corporation, but he managed to scramble out the window. He unfurled his wings to slow his descent,and landed lightly in the alley, where Muriel stood beside The Dumpster, still screaming.

"There's something inside the Dumpster!" they shrieked. "I tried to take the trash out and it scratched me!"

Aziraphale examined the line of thin scratches on the back of their hand; he had a sneaking suspicion as to the creature's identity."You'll live," he assured them. He went up on his tiptoes to peer into the Dumpster. "Ah, just as I thought. They're common in this area, but they can be devious creatures. You were right to be cautious."

"What is it?"

"It...is...a..." He extracted the creature, holding it carefully to avoid its claws and fangs. "Kitten."

"Mrrrrow," said the kitten irritably. It was a scruffy little thing, all dirty black fur and runny yellow eyes.

"Be careful!" Muriel urged. "If it's as dangerous as yousaid--"

"I was kidding. The worst thing a kitten can do is give you a nasty scratch." Aziraphale tapped its pink nose and cast a small miracle. All the fleas and mites disappeared from its tiny body."Poor baby, skin and bone. Well, I guess we'd better take it inside, get it warmed up."

"Crowley will--"

"Oh no!" Aziraphale gasped. "Crowley! I forgot!"

He reached the window with a few flaps of his wings. Climbing back in whilst holding a kitten was a bit more difficult, but he managed it. At first he didn't see Crowley, or Hope, then he spotted a massive lump of feathers in the corner. It was Crowley, crouching on the floor with her wings wrapped tightly around her and Hope.

"Crowley," Aziraphale said softly. He approached slowly and knelt down in front of her, keeping out of easy claw reach. "Darling,it's me."

A low growl came from within the feather cocoon.

"Everything's fine. There's no danger. Muriel was startled, that's all." Aziraphale edged closer and stroked a hand down Crowley's night-dark wing. "You're safe, my dear, everyone is safe."

Slowly, ebony-black feathers lowered, until a pair of yellow eyes peeked over the edge. "Did they come for Hope?"

"There you are, my darling," Aziraphale whispered. "Nobody came. We're all safe. Do you think you could let our daughter out of your fluffy prison?"

"Oh. Yeah." Crowley opened her wings, revealing a wide-eyed Hope clutched in her arms. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry." Aziraphale held up the now-squirming kitten."Muriel found this vicious creature in the garbage."

"That's what all the screaming was about?"

"Well, it's not every day one encounters such a foul fiend. What would you like for breakfast?"

Crowley took a deep breath. She was still on high alert, still vibrating with anxiety—but the thought of Aziraphale's cooking wiggled past the panic. "Crepes?"

"Crepes it is," the angel said, relief plain on his face. "Come down when you're ready, love, and we'll talk about names."

He sauntered from the room with the kitten under his arm. Approximately three seconds later, it hit Crowley.

"Names?" she demanded. "What do you mean, names? You're not keeping—angel!"

Hope squirmed and giggled.

"I don't think your Daddy's listening," Crowley said to the baby. "Well, we'd better get down here before he does any more damage, don't you think?"

In the twenty minutes or so it took Hope to nurse, and Crowley to put on some decent pajamas, breakfast was almost ready, and the damage was done.

"You're not keeping it," Crowley growled. "It's all grimy, and it's probably got fleas and--"

"Don't be silly," Aziraphale scoffed. Crowley being angry about a cat was much better than her being afraid. "I miracled the fleas off, and gave it a bath."

He was telling the truth; instead of garbage juice, the kitten now smelled like Aziraphale's body wash, and was happily chowing down on bacon. Muriel was sitting on the floor hand-feeding them each piece. The young angel was practically glowing with excitement.

"If that thing pukes, you're cleaning it up," Crowley growled.

"Of course!" Muriel said cheerfully, because they had no idea what 'puke' was. "I've always wanted a pet!"

"'Always?' You're, like, three years old." Crowley wiped a bit of drool from Hope's chin. "Can you believe these two? Falling in love with a furball from the garba--"

The kitten puffed up and yowled at Crowley. The demon responded with a rumbling growl and flashed her fangs.

"See, the little fellow likes you already. Aren't you a smart boy?" Aziraphale made a kissy face at the newcomer, and flipped a chocolate-strawberry crepe onto a plate, which he set down in front of Crowley. "Remember, dear, a lot of bookshops have cats! It keeps down the mice."

"I keep down the mice," Crowley snarled with her mouthfull. "You are not keeping it!"

Aziraphale grinned. This was his Crowley, the contrary demon trying not to show how soft and caring he/she was. "And why not?"

"You two don't know anything about having a pet! What are you going to do, feed it bacon every day?"

"I've already done my research!" Muriel informed her. "I'm headed to the store after breakfast to get everything we need!"

"And we'll help you take care of it," Aziraphale promised them.

"I'll help you by driving it to the shelter," Crowley muttered.

"What!" Aziraphale gasped in horror. "You—you can't! He'll be put down, or made part of some demonic--"

"Hey, now," Crowley said sharply. "Don't blame that on me. Humans invented the whole black-cats-are-evil thing. Look, I'm sure there's a lovely family waiting to adopt him."

"But I've already named it." All eyes turned to Muriel. "Hefty, after the trash bag I was using."

Aziraphale turned to Crowley and deployed his weapon of last resort: Puppy Dog Eyes.

"Don't you dare," Crowley growled unconvincingly. "Don't look at me like that! You know I can't—Muriel, don't you start, too!"

Clearly, Aziraphale had taught the young angel how to weaponize their beautiful brown eyes. Crowley looked between the two of them, hissed at the cat, and gave up.

1. Hefty is visually inspired by one of my childhood cats, while his personality is inspired by a current cat. We call her a trash panda because she loves garbage. She hates everyone but me, just like Hefty hates everyone but Muriel and Hope.