Stupidly early the next day Lucifer barged into Michael's room and threw a pillow at him to wake him up.

"Asshole," Michael muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"SO?" Lucifer demanded.

"So what?" Michael frowned, looking over at his brother. "And why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

"SO, What happened with Lydia?? And that's not important."

"I beg to differ, people should wear shirts-" Lucifer rolled his eyes.

"My shirt is occupied."

"Occupied."

"Yes."

"....Let me guess, Chloe is asleep downstairs in your shirt." Lucifer paused for a moment and then nodded.

"She likes my shirts, who am I to say no?" He mumbled.

"Don't you have an ENTIRE DRAWER full of shirts-"

"Oh my god WHY ARE YOU SO HUNG UP ON THIS-"

"Because I wanted you to admit that Chloe stayed over because you act all embarrassed and dopey when she stays over and it's not everyday you get the chance to unnerve Satan."

"Yes, my girlfriend slept in my bed last night, how positively SCANDALOUS, NOW QUIT AVOIDING MY QUESTION DUMBASS." Michael sighed.

"What do you want to know?"

"Anything. All I know about Lydia is that she likes sinful tic tacs. Enlighten me. Did you get a date with her, her phone number, does she hate you, COME ON, DETAILS!" Michael thought back to last night and a slow smile spread over his face. "Now who looks dopey?"

"Shuddup."

"Go on."

"She's in my grade, she's from Topeka, she's studying Physical therapy-"

"BORING, give me the good stuff, Mikey, you're KILLING ME-"

"Didn't realize Satan was such a fanboy."

"Am not!"

"Then why are you SO DETERMINED to know all the gritty details of my conversation with Lydia?"

"Because you've never dated anyone ever or even been interested! This is historic, Mikey, and for once I'm the first sibling to know about a relationship!"

"It's not a relationship."

"YET!"

"No, Luci, you're missing the best part about her!"

"Then tell me!"

"She doesn't like people!" Lucifer stared at him for a moment.

"Who does?" He asked.

"No, I mean," Michael sighed. "She's not interested in people romantically, guys OR girls. She's like me."

"Sooo you're perfect for each other."

"I wouldn't say THAT-" 

"Oh hells, I can't WAIT for the wedding-"

"What part of not romantically interested are you failing to understand?"

"What, you can't marry your best friend?"

"I don't really want to."

"It's like the BUDDY SYSTEM!"

"Oh god, here we go-"

"You have to stay with your buddy at all times, and hold your buddy's hand so neither of you get lost. So instead of getting married with a ring and all that jazz, you can just grab Lydia and yell HOLD MY HAND LOSER, WE'RE DOING THE BUDDY SYSTEM FOR LIFE!"

"Did you get that from Tumblr?"

"Yes, of course, but it still stands!" Michael rolled his eyes.

"Whatever- don't you have a girlfriend to entertain?"

"True, true, but I expect regular updates on the Lydia front, mister."

"Only if you promise not to crash another one of my college parties."

"Bitch please, like you're voluntarily going to another party."

*****

 "Hannah banana!" Balthazar screeched, slamming against the door frame of Hannah's room.

"Yes?" Hannah asked, looking up from her latest dissertation. 

"What are you doing?"

"Editing my essay on the unfairness of women's clothing, why?"

"Oooo, perfect! Come with me."

"Why?"

"It involves clothing."

"Shopping?" Hannah asked hopefully.

"Better. Fabric and thrift clothes shopping." Hannah gasped.

"At The Wicker Basket on Main?" She demanded.

"Duh."

"I'M IN, LET'S GO." They raced down the stairs and Balthazar nabbed the keys to Michael's car.

"MIKEY I'M STEALING YOUR CAR!" He yelled.

"WAIT WHAT, NO-" Michael objected from upstairs, but they were already gone.

The Wicker Backet was Hannah and Balthazar's favorite store of all time. It was a small, cozy shop full of cheap vintage and thrift clothing, small furniture, fabric and sewing supplies, and old vinyl records, all run by a sweet old lady named Hester who gave them cookies for shopping there.

"What are we hunting for today?" Hannah asked, as they inhaled the scent of fresh jam cookies and cedar.

"So, as you know, I've been thinking about my future a bunch," Balthazar started, searching the racks of paisley colored dresses and hideous blouses. "Since, like, I have to figure out college and all that junk."

"Okaaaaay," Hannah flung a light orange scarf around her neck and kept browsing.

"And I've finally decided what I want to do!" Balthazar's face lit up with excitement. "I want to be a fashion designer."

"You want to make clothes?"

"YES! How cool would that be? I'd have my own line and get to go to Milan for fashion shows and I COULD MAKE PANTS THAT HAVE POCKETS!"

"Sold. One hundred percent sold. This is perfect for you."

"I know right? But I need to put together a portfolio of my work for schools and stuff and since the only thing I've made so far were our homecoming dresses, I figured I better get working, and what better way to show off the clothes I make than with, drum roll please," Hannah drummed her hands on a nearby shelf. "You as my muse and model!" Hannah stared at him.

"You want ME to be your model?"

"DUH! You'd be perfect."

"....Alright, deal." 

"YES!!"Balthazar dove over a pile of gaudy derby hats and hugged her. "BEST! SISTER! EVER!"

"Oh please, we both already knew that."

"Can I be your personal designer when you're president?"

"President seems like a reach..."

"Not for you, Hannah. Not for you."

****

After a few hours of piling up old clothes and fabrics for Balthazar to turn into the next great fashion trend, they wandered down Main street until something in one of the storm drains caught Hannah's eye.

"Balthie look!" She cried, screeching to a halt by the drain. Balthazar rolled his eyes.

"What are you, a crow distracted by something shiny- OH MY GOD!"

"I KNOW." They dropped their bags and knelt by the drain, staring down at a small, filthy cat.

"Kitty...." Balthazar whispered.

"We have to help him!" Hannah insisted. 

"How did he even get down there? Poor thing-"

"Who do we call for this? Fire department? Animal control? A janitor?"

"Fire department is for when they're in trees, and if we call animal control, they'll take him and bring him to the pound and HE'LL DIE."

"NO! NOT MY CUTE SEWER KITTY."

"We're bringing him home."

"We're completely bringing him home, Dad's pet rules be damned."

"But how do we get him out of there?" They stared down at the drain a moment longer before the idea clicked into both of their heads.

***

Lucifer was there a few minutes later with a crowbar, a blowtorch, and other metal destroying tools. Chloe followed behind him (still wearing Satan's T-shirt, naturally) and looking wary. 

"Are we sure this is legal?" She asked.

"No," Balthazar admitted.

"It's not," Lucifer confirmed, getting to work on the drain grate.

"It's for a good cause!" Hannah insisted. She slipped her hands through the grate, managing to cover the cat with her jacket, just in case Lucifer had to bring out the blowtorch. The cat, thankfully, didn't move, but it meowed softly.

Lucifer got the grate off like he'd done it a thousand times before, which he likely had for strange reasons, and Hannah wrapped the cat in her jacket and brought him up.

"He's so much smaller than I thought," She said.

"Not much older than a kitten," Chloe confirmed, fighting back an awww.

"He smells like shit." Lucifer deadpanned and Chloe elbowed him. 

"He's our smelly cat now," Balthazar declared. 

"Don't you dare-" Satan warned.

"Smelly cat, SMELLY CAT-"

"Balthazar-"

"WHAT ARE THEY FEEDING YOU?"

"THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR YOUR FRIENDS ADDICTION-"

"SMELLY CAT, SME-LLY CAT, IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT!"

*****

One begging session to Chuck and several baths later, the cat, who turned out to be a light gray color, was sleeping soundly in a shoebox while the Novaks crowded around it, wondering what to name it.

"Obviously something fandom related," Hannah suggested. 

"Something regal," Anna offered. "A noble cat name."

"Something Egyptian, perhaps?" Cas said.

"Willem DaFoe," Balthazar whispered. "The cat."

"Why Willem Dafoe?" Gabriel asked.

"He was my original inspiration for dressing in drag." Balthazar explained.

"Willem DaFoe doesn't dress in drag."

"Boondock Saints begs to differ. He looked FABULOUS."

"Demon," Lucifer suggested. "We're all angels, it only makes sense."

"You're actually Satan," Michael reminded him.

"Exactly. Perfect."

"What about something from literature?" Chuck suggested. "Gatsby?"

"CATSBY," Cas immediately said.

"NO." The others shot down.

"David Tennant," Charlie said seriously. "You have to."

"No," Cas sighed. "Then we have to get another cat named Michael Sheen."

"I've got it." Hannah said. "Sir Willem Tennant Dickens the 17th." They all stared.

"That is the stupidest name I've ever heard," Lucifer insisted. "It's perfect."

"I love it," Balthazar agreed. 

"So many nicknames..."Gabriel muttered. "We could call him DICK!"

"WE COULD CALL HIM SIR DICK!" Lucifer agreed.

"What have you done?" Michael asked.

"Sir Will," Chuck mused, scratching at the cat's ears. "It'll be a bitch to write on his water bowl but okay."

"Best. Cat name. Ever." Anna said. They all nodded.

And that was how Sir Willem Tennant Dickens the 17th became apart of the Novak family.

Amara was not pleased.