Chapter Text
The staring had started early. Maybe even as early as the morning after Crowley moved in.
The small balcony was perfect for a few of his sun-loving plants, had been a major selling point of the flat as a matter of fact.
And he was determined to enjoy the space, to take full advantage of the morning sun to do a little basking and a lot of gardening.
He just hadn’t counted on the staring.
The moment he pulled open the sliding door one Tuesday morning, cool blue eyes met warm amber ones. It was frankly getting to be a little unnerving, especially as the whole exchange was, as ever, completely silent.
Turning away from the glare from across the alley, Crowley dipped the tips of his fingers into various pots, watering as needed. He gently pinched leaves between index and thumb, turning them this way and that, checking for spots and pests. Not that any of his plants would dare to let themselves be sullied in such a way. Still, it didn’t hurt to be vigilant.
After a few minutes, he was satisfied, and he pulled open the door again. He spared one more glance for the pair of eyes still staring in his direction. They closed in a slow blink, and he shuddered, squaring his shoulders and marching back into his flat.
The following Thursday, Crowley opened the sliding door, huge mug of steaming coffee in hand and ready to brave more staring if it meant he could enjoy this first not boiling hot morning on his balcony.
Of course, it was at that moment that his phone began to ring. Of course, it was this morning that he’d left it on the charger in the bedroom, determined to drink his coffee and take in the fresh air without the distraction of social media or the pointless games he would never admit he loved.
Crowley pushed long fingers through his messy hair, clenching his fist briefly and tugging.
“Hrrrgh,” he groaned as he swiftly changed direction.
It was probably work; no one else would dare to call this early. It had better be an emergency.
“Crowley,” he gruffed out as he pulled the phone from the wireless charging mat and thumbed at the answer symbol.
“Good morning, sir,” a tinny voice said, all too cheerfully for eight o’ clock in the morning. “I’d like to talk to you about you car’s–”
“Fuck off,” Crowley mumbled, though he’d already hung up.
The sound of tearing fabric echoed through the flat, followed by a soft thump from the direction of the living room, and — oh shit — the open door to the balcony.
Heart pounding, he hurried out of his bedroom, eyes sweeping through the light spilling into the living room, looking for one shape in particular.
Oh thank someone. He pressed a hand to his chest in relief.
There, in a wide swath of sunshine, was a large, cream-coloured puffball, light orange ears perked forward. A rumbling purr reached Crowley’s hearing just as blue eyes slowly opened toward him.
“Major Tom,” Crowley drawled. “What did you do? What did you knock over this time?”
It was then, as he took another step toward the balcony with plans to check for damage and close the door, that he heard it.
A yowl, no less angry for how muffled it was.
He looked down at the purring cat.
“Tom?”
Another yowl, slightly less muffled this time, echoed through the room as something resembling an uncooked turkey leg emerged from beneath a pale cloud of fur.
“What. The. Shit.”