Disclaimer: Nothing mine. A.N. I know, I know, Tigger, I'm such a disappointment. Give me ages and freedom, and I still manage to stay blocked till the literal last week and deliver at best half of what I was supposed to. Hopefully you can still enjoy...maybe one paragraph of this. Merry Christmas!
By the way, I've learned that the Victorians pushed for "Happy Christmas" because they associated merry with being drunk. Let me reiterate: Merry Christmas! Then maybe you will notice less the flaws... ;D

A startling encounter

"Some old friends of mine will probably pop by one of these days," Magnus said, with a feline smile.

"When don't they?" Alec quipped. It's not as if Magnus suddenly turned hermit because they were together. If that happened, it would worry Alec to no end, thinking that his beloved considered their relationship too shameful to share with his usual companions. Still, the warrior in him wondered if this was a warning of some sort. "How old?"

"From my London period," Magnus replied, somehow managing to make it sound like Picasso would have said, "Oh, that's just a sketch from my Rose period."

"Anything I should be worried about?" Alec asked.

"Only discovering some rare delicacy that you'll want to go half-way through the world for. Good thing that I have it almost as easy as them on the teleporting. And before you ask – no, neither is an ex of mine. In fact, I don't think they've ever had eyes for anyone else."

Alec hadn't meant to actually inquire. The less he knew, the less he would be tempted to glare, which wasn't a good policy, especially not when facing someone with powers that – even in a single skill – might surpass his boyfriend's. Then again, Magnus hadn't implied that the delicacies he might be initiated into could be dangerous. No Fae, then. He almost wanted to ask what they were, the old mindset of preparing to confront any sort of creature hard to shed. But he didn't have to, he reminded himself. The very last thing Magnus needed was a high-strung warrior boyfriend making a fuss when old friends came to wish the compliments of the season, or whatever people used to do back then.

When the pair arrived, their appearance surprised him. At least Alec assumed, from their accents, that they were the ones Magnus had been talking about; it would be just his luck to have unrelated Britishmen visit.

Technically, one of them he could easily imagine back in 1800. The middle-aged professor, if he hadn't known better, in his tartan, fluffy white hair and round figure, wouldn't even have needed that much of a clothes adjustment to fit right in the past. His companion had clearly updated more from their common past, what with the sunglasses and a black leather outfit that Izzy would probably appreciate – or at least, have a strong opinion about how it should be corrected to be just right. The snake 'tattoo' (if that's what it was) reminded Alec of the runes they used. He wasn't sure what it'd grant, though. Could the redhead be a former Shadowhunter himself? Of course, he'd have to have been changed to still be around in some way... Alec reminded himself sharply that there was nothing to wonder over. He'd eventually be told all the interesting bits, and from Magnus himself.

They sat for hot cocoa, which would best complement the treats the fluffy one had picked. Alec hadn't entirely understood the name of the pastry – he was pretty sure it wasn't in a language he knew – but he didn't need that to appreciate the near-heavenly taste. No wonder a sensualist like Magnus had maintained the friendship. Alec almost made some very embarrassing sounds at first bite, but stifled himself in time. From Magnus' gleaming stare, he knew...and was impressed at him for foiling his mischievous expectation.

"So, how is my favourite nephew?" the one who introduced himself as Crowley asked.

Ok, that was... hadn't Magnus mentioned they were relatives? If his mother's brother was some sort of creature, it surely was worth a hint.

"Can't you see that?" Magnus replied, brushing his foot against Alec's calf. So, of course, Alec blushed. And this time, his boyfriend's look towards him was not so different from the one he had given to the pastries.

"Good company, sure, I see that," Crowey replied, grinning.

"Better than that, my dear. I think he might finally be ready to settle," Fell said, looking somewhere between them.

"Congratulations, then! Just, uh, when you do, if we'll eventually be invited, if you could avoid a church. You know how it is," Crowley shrugged.

"I could help out, my dear," his companion offered.

Crowley chuckled. "Yeah, no, I'm pretty sure you carrying me bridal style would be in poor style at someone else's wedding."

"Oh well, I could always upstage that..." Magnus countered, with a thoughtful look that Alec had learned to be wary of and look forward to at the same time.

In another occasion, Alec would have kept quiet. But he didn't want Magnus to get ideas about their wedding before he even asked. Alec would say yes, of course. Be a little floored, especially because for all his long past Magnus hadn't ever married before, too. Not unless that was a well-guarded secret, at least. So, he asked, "Actually, I don't know how it is. What's wrong with a church wedding that would cause you trouble?"

Crowley shrugged. "The same that would give his dad trouble, to use your words, and I assume he'd prefer me to him on his family's side. Maybe even to give him away, huh? Would you like that idea?" He tilted his head.

Not that Alec even heard that. He was too busy panicking. His dad... Magnus had never got along with his father. The snake couldn't be a demon, could he? Surely Magnus wouldn't have nonchalantly summoned one, or not told him, or – He jumped up, looking around for a weapon anyway, even a makeshift one. Dammit.

"Settle, little nephilim." There was power in the voice, but it wasn't Crowley. It was his companion, who rose himself, spreading white, fluffy wings, a headache-inducing number of eyes now littering his body.

Alec blinked. "Are...are you an angel?" He cringed at the tone of his own voice, mixed between confused and accusatory.

"Yes. My true name is Aziraphale. And you come from Raziel's line, and are in love with a literal demon's child. Can we just drop the hypocrisy and have a nice Christmas party? Fear not...him, anyway."

Crowley chuckled. "Aw, come on, angel. It's kinda flattering, you know, when people are still spooked."

"Are they...usually not?" Alec hadn't felt this pathetic and out of his element in years. Not in front of something he was supposed to fight, anyway.

"A million small annoyances are more productive than one big private disaster, is what I always say. Now, if only I could get the lower-downs to understand the maths of it..." He sighed.

Alec sat down. "Why are some demons stupider than vampires?" Even they had figured out that rather than killing and draining someone, keeping them alive and available for later led to a better-fed vampire. Small doses added up. And wouldn't drag Shadowhunters or anyone else on you.

"Well, there were no classes for anyone to flunk – or not – before we fell." Crowley smirked.

Alec laughed, before catching himself. "Sorry?"

"For what, love?" Magnus purred.

"Uh...everything." He bit his bottom lip.

"Forgiven." That was Aziraphale. "Assuming you too have had misguiding examples for your earlier outburst."

"Don't get me started on that." This time, Magnus' voice was almost a growl. And damn, Alec wasn't supposed to like that. Not while they weren't alone. Which, uh – hopefully they would be soon. How long could this catching up thing last, anyway?