Mistletoe
Aziraphale carefully climbed down off of his small wooden stepladder, and took a step back to admire his handiwork. He dusted off his hands and smiled the contented smile that belongs only to a Good Job Well Done.
Above the door to his shop now hung, quite conspicuously, a good-sized sprig of mistletoe.
Now, Aziraphale said to himself with a wry grin, we wait.
It took a couple of days. In the meanwhile, several loved-up couples blushed and giggled in doorway of the shop. To Aziraphale's delight one pair of friends, clearly (to the angel and to everyone else who knew them) head over heels in love with each other but too nervous to do anything about it, finally did something about it , thanks to that angelically imbued little sprig of greenery. Aziraphale felt very much heartened by it.
Aziraphale was sitting at his desk with a cup of cocoa and a good book when he finally heard the familiar rumble of a vintage 1926 Bentley rolling to a halt outside of his shop.
The angel grinned.
Standing up and straightening his sweater vest, Aziraphale walked confidently to the front of the shop. He opened the door just as Crowley was walking up the front steps.
'Hey, Aziraphale,' the demon said brightly.
'Hello, Crowley,' the angel replied.
'Brought whiskey,' he said, brandishing a bottle. 'Good stuff, too.'
'Lovely, thank you.'
Crowley stopped outside. Aziraphale was standing in the doorway with his hands clasped in front of him. Crowley shot him a quizzical look.
'All right, angel?'
'Oh yes. Perfectly fine, thank you,' Aziraphale nodded.
'Er… So… You gonna let me in, or…?'
Aziraphale looked up pointedly.
Crowley looked up bewilderedly.
Aziraphale looked down at Crowley with pursed lips.
Crowley looked up at Aziraphale.
'Mistletoe ?!' the demon hissed incredulously.
Aziraphale folded his arms. 'Yes.'
'What the fuck, Aziraphale?'
The angel spread his perfectly manicured hands and shrugged. 'A rather archaic symbolism, I know, but I think you'll find it as efficacious as ever at warding off evil spirits.'
Crowley glared and tried to stick his hand through the doorway. His fist bounced back as though he'd punched a trampoline, and Aziraphale smirked superciliously.
'Maybe next time you get it in your head to arrange for emergency roadworks that will prevent the running of the Christmas Parade I spent the last month encouraging the council to organise, you'll think better of it.'
'No, look, angel, I didn't know that-'
'You bloody well did. You knewexactly what you were doing, Anthony J. Crowley. You didn't want that parade going outside your flat. I know you, you old serpent. And if you think you can swan back in here after ruining all of my hard work... Well. Think again.'
Aziraphale leaned out and took the bottle of very good whiskey from the demon's unresisting hands, and patted him on the cheek.
'Thank you for the whiskey, dear boy. Merry Christmas.'
And then he shut the door.
Crowley blinked.
Crowley scoffed.
Crowley shook his head.
Crowley leaned down and shouted through the letter box:
'Yeah, Merry Christmas, you complete bastard!'