Chapter Text
Miles entered the Macdonald household in a flurry with his wife following on his heels. “This better be good.” Miles called making his way into the living room. “I have mulled wine mulling at home.”
“Weren’t you two supposed to be back in London?” Anna asked gently at Aziraphale and Crowley sitting on the couch. Aziraphale had tea and a cookie in his hands while Crowley was sitting in a way that’d damage his spine if he could actually feel pain.
“We were.” Crowley announced taking off his sunglasses. “But then something came up.”
“Does it have something to do with that meeting you were attending during our show?” Barry asked, taking a cookie from a tray on the coffee table. Aziraphale nodded and took a sip of his tea.
“Yes. I would’ve watched the stream live, but one of my tenants needed my attention.” Aziraphale began recounting the story to his friends.
Aziraphale entered Justine’s cafe to loud French swears bouncing off the walls.
“Espèces de salauds! Vous n'avez pas le droit de fermer mon café! Comment osez-vous?” Justine screamed to the poor souls who had triggered her wrath.
“Uh hello?” Aziraphale called knocking on the restaurant doors, quieting the swears. “Anyone here?”
“Mr. Fell!” Justine cried and in a flash the cafe owner was in the angels arms, practically in tears. “You have to help me! These men want to close my cafe!”
“Oh nonsense Justine, no one is closing your cafe.” Aziraphale said with a smile. “Mets ton menton dans le poisson. I’ll take care of it.”
“That’s not how the saying goes…” Justine muttered as a man emerged from the backroom. If someone were to paint the stereotypical portrait of a lawyer, they’d have it in Timothy Freeball. He was straight-laced in a clean cut gray suit with a green silk tie, fine pressed shirt, and his hair was slicked back with a gallon of hair gel. Timothy smiled but it wasn’t a warm smile, it was a condescending smile like an adult speaking to a child.
“I’m afraid Mr. Fell that we have grounds to close the cafe.” Timothy announced, holding out his hand. “Mr. Freeball, lawyer for Holy Properties Incorporated.”
“Ah Mr. Fell, the landlord of this property.” Aziraphale announced, shaking the lawyer's hand. He stood up straight and adopted his former archangel demeanor. “Has Justine contacted you with interest to sell her cafe because she made no such move to me.”
“No, however, my buyers are very interested in this property, all of Whickber Street actually.” Timothy announced gesturing with his arm to the outside street. “And I’m here to make sure the sale goes smoothly.”
“I assure you Whickber Street is not for sale.” Aziraphale declared, Justine nodding beside him.
Timothy smiled again. “Oh but it is.” Timothy announced before reaching into his briefcase and pulling out a stack of papers and handing it to Aziraphale. “Section H, row 3, line 1.4. Property is subject to sale if property has been damaged, left to ruin, or suffered any damage from years of misuse and/or neglect.”
Aziraphale quickly flipped through the papers scanning the words over and over again. He looked up at Timothy looking a little deflated. “Whickber Street has seen better days I agree….”
“And since the property has been in such neglect.” Timothy continued taking the contract away from Azirpahale. “My buyers want to level this neighborhood and put up some luxury flats for the up-in-comers who are very interested in this area of London. Just imagine it, shining bright silver buildings, trees growing along the sidewalk, little cafes dotting the street nothing like…..” he sniffed at the sight of a pair of teenagers running past waving scarves and Mutt chasing after them. “It is now.”
“This is ridiculous!” Aziraphale yelled. “Who are your bosses?”
“I have their business card right here.” Timothy announced, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sleek white business card. He handed it to Aziraphale before beginning to walk out the door. “After January 1st, all businesses on this street will be shut to begin construction of our new flats and this old, dingy shop street will be a thing of the past.” Timothy raised a hand and waved as he left the cafe.
“Happy Christmas.”
Aziraphale looked down at the business card with Justine, the French woman confused as his face twisted fearfully. “Mr. Fell?” Justine said softly. Aziraphale looked up into the sea of empty seats and tables.
“Oh putain.”
“So who are these shady characters who are trying to buy the street?” Jenny asked, returning from the kitchen with the tea kettle ready for anyone who needed a refill. Aziraphale sighed and held out his cup for the young woman to refill.
“They’re my former bosses in Heaven.” Aziraphale announced. “Metatron and Sandalphon.”
“WHAT?” The four humans shouted as the angel took a sip of his tea.
“That’s insane! I thought you took care of them!” Barry pointed out.
“That’s what we thought.” Crowley muttered.
“Sandalphon disappeared after me and Muriel leashed Heaven.” Aziraphale explained. “Metatron quietly left after relinquishing power. I thought Eric was keeping an eye on him.”
“But why does he want the street? That seems weird for two former archangels to want a street full of novelty shops.” Miles pointed out.
“They want the bookshop.” Crowley announced. “It’s still technically an embassy for Heaven. They get the bookshop, they can build their own embassy, and then really punish Aziraphale for all the changes he brought to Heaven.”
The room fell silent. The only sound being the crackling of the fire and the occasional stirring of tea. Finally Anna spoke up.
“Wait a second, you’re an angel and a demon.” Anna pointed out. “You could just change the contract and stop this from happening.”
“It’s not that simple.” Aziraphale muttered, taking another cookie. “Metatron and Sandalphon would know and could simply change it, then add protection so I couldn’t change it again. The only way out of this is legally.”
“So we’ll go to court!” Barry announced to some excited chatter from the other humans. The excitement tittered off when they saw the angel and demon shaking their heads.
“That’ll take months, maybe years, and in the meantime they’ll have Whickber flattened.” Crowley explained. “The only way out is to raise money to fix up the street and we’ll be honoring the contract. But we don’t know how to do that.”
The living room fell into silence once more as each person pondered the question laid at their feet. Every once in a while, someone would move like they had something to say or an idea but they quickly stopped themselves as they realized in real time it wouldn’t work. Finally after a long while, Jenny spoke.
“Well. We could always throw a block party.” Jenny suggested. “Each cafe can have a stand and the money we raise can go towards the fixing up of Whickber Street.”
“Like a Christmas market!” Aziraphale said with a smile.
“We can have food, crafts.” Barry rambled. “Music….”
“Music?” Crowley muttered, rubbing his chin.
“But we need a big draw, something that’ll really bring the people in and make them spend money.” Miles pointed out, the group falling into silence again. The fire crackled in the fireplace and Crowley slapped his knees, leaning back on the sofa.
“Alright, we can recruit the club for this little Christmas market.” Crowley announced like the group was pulling his leg. The rest of the adults stared back at the demon in shock as he grabbed his own tea off the table, pausing before he took a sip. “What?”
“Are you insane?” Anna asked.
“Possibly.”
“There is no way in hell those kids' parents would agree to send their kids off on a school trip a week before Christmas.” Barry added.
“....Rose’s parents would. She’s already back in London.” Miles muttered.
Aziraphale looked over at Crowley, eyebrows raising high on his forehead as Crowley turned his gaze to him. Crowley sighed, bowed his head, and lifted a hand snapping his long slim fingers.
“Well they will now.” Crowley muttered, Aziraphale beaming.
“Oh what, he can use his magic to make the adults agree but you can't get out of this contract?” Barry asked, crossing his arms.
“Like we said, it's complicated.” Crowley shrugged.
“I’ll call Muriel, apparently they have a contact back in Heaven that’ll help us put this together.” Aziraphale announced making a simple phone appear in his hand.
“Tell them to organize a Whickber St Shopkeepers meeting while they’re at it.” Crowley ordered finally sipping his tea then standing up with the angel. “We have to get them on board for this ‘market’. And you lot.” Crowley turned and pointed at the humans who jumped back in surprise.
“Get packing. We’re leaving in a fortnight.” Crowley announced before he and Aziraphale left, lost in their own little world.
For a while no one in the living room spoke, the fire was still crackling and the house was settling as the cooler weather battered its frame. Finally Miles spoke.
“So I guess no Mari Lawd this year?” Miles asked before getting cookies thrown at him.
At that very moment Logan was having a blast on Xbox live with Dan and Will, playing Left 4 Dead and killing some zombies. They were about to start the next match when a knock came at the door and his mom popped her head in.
“Logan, sweetie, can you pause your game?” Mrs. Logical asked stepping into her teenage son's room.
“Mom, I can't just pause the game!” Logan whined as the bunker doors opened and the quartet of characters jumped out. “We’re already on the map!”
“Well it doesn’t look like you’re not having that much fun.” Mrs. Logical pointed out. “Why don’t you pause it and we can talk.”
“You don’t know what fun is.” Logan announced but paused the game nonetheless. He took off his headphones as his mom approached, handing him a letter.
“It looks like a last minute competition has come up in London! Mr. Crowley just sent us this letter.” Mrs. Logical announced beaming as Logan snatched the letter away from her. The teenager scanned the letter quickly.
“But the London Performance Awards already happened.” Logan muttered confused.
“And you’ll be home for Christmas! Isn’t that thoughtful of Mr. Crowley?” Mrs. Logical said with a smile tapping the paper. “I’ll find your passport, oh you’ll have the best time!” With one final squeal, Mrs. Logical left her son confused as he read over the letter over and over again. Finally Logan picked up his headphones and unmuted, trying to stop his head from spinning.
“Hey guys? I think Mr. Crowley and Mr. Fell are up to something again.”