Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was a nice day. That was worth noting because there had been a shortage of nice days as of late. The change in weather had been so sudden and severe that many of the residents on Wickber Street had noticed. Even in Soho and the greater London as a whole, Wickber Street had gained a reputation for such impeccable weather, creating such a welcoming environment that turned many passing pedestrians into potential customers. The weather change only seemed to occur in this corner of Soho though, no strange weather phenomenon reported on the weather channels to indicate London was experiencing anything unusual. A few of the Shopkeepers were joking that the street must have been protected by some kind of divine protections and that it was now gone. Mr. Arnold wasn’t a man of superstition, however. He believed in science and therefore knew this was just Climate Change catching up.

Mr. Arnold was rather content living on Wickber Street. Everything was peaceful and days had a structure to them. His father had moved them here in the late 1970’s after the city decided to clean up a number of establishments they felt didn’t properly reflect the reputation they were trying to build. Ever since they reopened the music shop the days nearly had a schedule to them. Every day began with the opening of the coffee shop. ‘Jon Coffee’ had been around for many years until ‘Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death’ bought them out four years ago. The shop attracted many passerby’s going to their day job along side of proprietors on the street to give them their morning caffeine. When the rest of the stores opened they mostly had quiet and calm mornings before traffic picked up in the afternoon. Between the hours of lunch and dinner, when patrons were moving between meals or the pub, the rest of the establishments got the bulk of their patronage. They weren’t rich, but Mr. Arnold made enough to keep in a healthy margin.

The predictability gave Mr. Arnold a comfortable wait period in the mornings that he usually filled with playing his harpsichord or other instruments. At the moment, he was using the time to reread the ‘1965 Doctor Who Annual’. The fact that the book was in his possession was nothing short of a miracle, and that was before one took into account that Mr. Arnold hadn’t even been sure of it’s existence before it had come into his possession a few months ago. Mr. Arnold was a proud Whovian, one who thought he knew everything there was to know about the series. Doctor Who had been a significant part of his childhood and while he wasn’t always sure about the New Who series', he had to acknowledge that Christopher Eccleston, Billie Piper, and David Tennant had helped pull the series into the forefront for a new generation of fans. Mr. Arnold had spent years collecting Doctor Who memorabilia, especially the classic Annuals. For some he had dropped so much money he wanted to ensure his father never found out as he wouldn’t have approved. So, for Mr. Fell to tell him there was a book he didn’t know of sitting in the back of the Fell bookshop, Mr. Arnold didn’t know how to react. Mr. Fell was an avid book collector after all, it would be hard to believe he didn’t know what he was talking about and Mr. Arnold wasn’t willing to take the chance of letting such a rarity go so he agreed to Mr. Fell’s deal.

As soon as Mr. Fell left his shop, Mr. Arnold had dove into the Doctor Who forums. He had discovered that Mr. Fell had indeed been telling him the truth. A September 1965 Annual had been planned and after the layout had been confirmed one book had been printed. There had been issues at the studio and in the end the book wasn’t published. After the issues were resolved, the initial copy had vanished and a new annual had been designed from scratch. Later Mr. Arnold got the book appraised to learn it was the genuine article. He was still debating with himself to keep the book quiet or publishing the pages on the forums and becoming a legend to the rest of the Doctor Who fandom.

None of that was the reason he was still in awe of having the book however. It was because Mr. Fell had given it to him, given it not for money but for such a minor favor that there should have been a catch involved. Mr. Fell had been someone Mr. Arnold knew vaguely nearly his entire life. The man was proper, stern, and elegant. He would visit the other storekeepers on occasion and was generous where he could be, a devout religious man who offered blessings and forgiveness like and endless fount. He was the kind of man who would randomly offer prayers or blessings for you and while you didn’t always want it you would put up with it because it seemed important to him and did absolutely no harm to you. However, the moment a book was involved things changed. Mr. Fell was practically a demon when it came to his books. If Mr. Arnold hadn’t seen the shop with his own eyes he wouldn’t have believed Mr. Fell could own a bookstore. He was more like a hoarder who kept a store just so he would have a place to store books. It was rare for him to sell a book, so giving him a book away was a major deal. Especially since he and Mr. Arnold were not friends.

The door to the music shop opened and Mr. Arnold felt a twinge of annoyance at his reading being interrupted. For a moment he could relate to Mr. Fell’s odd antics. As he looked up to greet the customer though, he was surprised to see Ms. Sandwich. She had shut the door quickly behind her and squeezed into the window to look out at something. Mr. Arnold was familiar with the others on the street but he wouldn’t call any of them his friends. More like people he would just wave to or nod to acknowledge as he passed on the street or have a small chat while waiting in line for a cup of coffee. He tried once to create a stronger relationship, gone to Association meetings, and decided that just wasn’t for him. Ms. Sandwich considered herself separate from the other shopkeepers and Mr. Arnold couldn’t really say he understood what her business was. She exclusively hired young women and only allowed singles into her establishment in the evenings. Almost all of her patrons were exclusively male. He wasn’t even sure she even stepped foot into his store before.

“He’s back.” She said in lieu of any actual explanation. The musician went to ask her to elaborate but the woman let out a huff of annoyance before storming back out into the alley. Curious and confused, Mr. Arnold moved around his counter to follow her. They reached the edge of the small alley, looking out at the bookshop across the street. ‘A.Z. Fell and Co.’ had been a staple on Wickber Street ever since 1800. Apparently Mr. Fell’s ancestor of two hundred and so years had purchased some property to create a bookshop before passing it down to the oldest in his line ever since. The only other shop with such a pedigree was Ms. Maggie’s ‘The Small Backroom’, a record shop that opened in the 1920’s on one of the Fell’s properties. The families had remained close ever since, a rare generational friendship that no one could really explain. Truthfully both shops should have gone out of business long ago, especially after the pandemic. The Fell family seemed to be of old money though, and Mr. Fell had not only kept his store afloat but kept the record shop open as well. It was just as well, the street wouldn’t be the same without those establishments.

The stores were not the only constants that people could remember on the street. For the last four years in particular, a big black Bentley had been parked almost permanently outside of the bookshop. According to Ms. Maggie, that car belonged to a family friend of the Fell’s. She had told Mr. Arnold once that her grandmother had been the first to mention the car, that it belonged to the bookshop owner’s friend nearly ninety years ago. When the bookshop was handed down to Mr. Fell’s father, the car passed to a new owner as well, the previous owner’s son. Now, Mr. Fell owned the bookshop and the original owner’s grandson inherited the car. It was another generational friendship, but one with a lot more mystery than Ms. Maggie’s. The car had vanished a few months ago, right alongside of other strange occurrences which coincidentally included the change in weather. Suddenly it was very clear who Ms. Sandwich was talking about.

Mr. Arnold wasn’t much of a gossip, but he liked to have an idea of what was going on in his surroundings. A few months ago, a series of incidents had truly rattled the residents of Wickber Street. It all started with a man appearing on the street, naked as the day he was born. The man had walked up to the bookstore, and Mr. Arnold had come outside to investigate the strange mob just in time to see the naked man hug Mr. Fell and be hurried into the shop. He later learned from Ms. Maggie that the man was named ‘Jim’ and he was an old acquaintance of Mr. Fell’s who had just lost everything. Mr. Fell, the bleeding heart he was, had taken him and made him his apprentice. A few days after that Mr. Fell volunteered to hold the Monthly Shopkeepers and Street Traders Association meeting, something he was so on edge about that he gave Mr. Arnold a one-of-a-kind book just to have him in attendance along with four other musically inclined friends.

If you asked Mr. Arnold about the meeting, he would be forced to admit that he couldn’t really recall much. He remembered being confused, but then the period of the meeting was just filled with the emotion of fear and apprehension. He got the distinct feeling that his life was in danger, but he really couldn’t explain why. He did remember the owner of the Bentley taking him and the rest of the guests out of the shop, a feeling of relief and exhaustion, and then he was home. It was after that he heard whispers around the street. Mr. Fell, Jim, the Bentley, and the Bentley’s owner had not been seen since. Instead he caught glimpses of a young androgynous person moving around in the bookshop.

The Bentley was back now though. It’s owner as well. He wasn’t a young man, but he wasn’t very old either. Maybe forty years? He was tall and thin, all angles and sharp lines. The man always wore black clothing and dark sunglasses. Like his father before him, if Mr. Arnold remembered correctly. He was easy to spot, especially due to the shock of red hair on his head. For years he could recall seeing the man walk between his car and the bookshop, a swagger to his steps that exuded confidence and a carefree attitude. The man was practically the opposite to Mr. Fell in every way.

Mr. Arnold never did get his name, Mr. Fell never introduced the man and the man never once introduced himself either. He kept to himself, usually remaining in the bookshop when he came to visit. On occasion he would follow Mr. Fell around on the street. Usually he was reserved and quiet with his hands in his pockets, but sometimes he bounded around like an excited puppy and other times he was on edge like an attack dog waiting to be let off the leash. That wasn’t to say the man was rude. In fact he was always polite when he was forced to interact with anyone. Mr. Arnold figured he was introverted and didn’t really like to interact with other people. Mr. Arnold always got the impression that Mr. Fell and the man were the kind of people who wouldn’t have met each other had circumstances not been forced. With their father’s and grandfather’s being so close, it was likely the two had been raised together. They seemed to have grown so accustomed to each other that they got comfortable in the others presence and now they preferred that comfort.

Right now though, the man who was pacing between the bookshop and the Bentley was more stressed and on edge than Mr. Arnold recalled seeing him before. His face was a storm of emotion, his entire body tense and a ridged line. He looked aggravated or scared, and Mr. Arnold felt sympathy for whatever was stressing him out. The man walked up to the bookshop door, paused, then turned and stormed back to his car before pausing and repeating the process again. “I didn’t realize they were back.” Mr. Arnold said.

“They’re not. It’s only him.” Ms. Sandwich said. There must have been an entire slue of reasons that Mr. Fell’s friend was here alone, but Mr. Arnold wasn’t able to think up of many. Maybe Mr. Fell and his friend went on a trip and Mr. Fell forgot something that he sent his friend back for? Maybe him and the person watching the store didn’t get along and that was why he was pacing? Overall, Mr. Arnold figured it wasn’t really his business and that he should just excuse himself before going back to work. “I wonder why he’s back, especially after Mr. Fell broke his heart.” Mr. Arnold felt like a record scratch sounded in his mind.

“Mr. Fell broke his heart?” he asked. He thought about the times he had seen the two together and supposed it was possible the two could have been in a relationship. Ms. Sandwich hummed.

“I heard from Nina at the coffee shop that Mr. Fell left and abandoned both his lad and his shop.” She said. Mr. Arnold almost scoffed at that. Ms. Sandwich was new to the street, relatively at least. She hadn’t really met the Fell Family, but they were practically professional descendants. For the last two hundred years the oldest son of the family had been raised to take over the bookshop, even given the initials of ‘A.Z.’ to match the bookshop. This bookshop and their family’s legacy had to be important to them for such a thing to occur. Why would Mr. Fell just abandon the shop?

“Abandoned them?” he asked, trying to clarify. Ms. Sandwich nodded.

“Yes, my money is he ran off with his assistant.” She said. Jim had vanished at the same time after all, so it made a little sense. Yet Mr. Arnold felt she was confusing one of those soap operas with real life. After all, if Mr. Fell had for some reason abandoned the shop and his boyfriend, why would the boyfriend be back at the shop? Was he here to see Mr. Fell again? Did he know that Mr. Fell was gone?

The door to the bookshop opened and the man paused in his walk back to the car, turning to face the new resident of the bookshop. The shopkeeper began to speak and Mr. Arnold felt a twinge or regret that the words were drowned out by the pedestrian traffic. He couldn’t read lips either, so the words were lost, but the person’s face was sad and soft so at least there was no animosity there. After a moment the man started to respond, his arms and entire body moving to help enunciate his words. After a moment the shopkeeper began to speak again. The man pointed back to the Bentley and the shopkeeper suddenly moved forward and reached for his arm. The man scrambled back a few steps to keep out of reach and Ms. Sandwich let out a noise of displeasure. “Shouldn’t just reach for a person love.” She muttered under her breath. The shopkeeper seemed to understand they did the wrong thing and quickly moved back with their hands up. They spoke again and the man’s entire body seemed to slump as he gave a small nod. Then he went into the bookshop, the shopkeeper moving behind him. They must have closed the door harder than it looked, because the sign in the door swung from ‘open’ to ‘very closed’ on its own.

“Well.” Mr. Arnold started, but he didn’t know what to say to that. Fortunately he was saved by a person shuffling past him and Ms. Sandwich before they went directly into his shop. “I suppose I must be getting on.” He told Ms. Sandwich before excusing himself. He was curious now, but it would be a concern for another day. He wasn't a gossip, but maybe just this once he would keep an ear out for the on-goings of the street.

Chapter Text

Justine frowned as she looked at the next shop on her list. Mr. Brown was very pushy when he wanted to be, yet she still couldn’t wrap her head around how he pushed the monthly meeting onto her plate. Like many of the shopkeepers on Wickber Street, Justine wasn’t a big fan of the Association Meetings. They reminded her far too much of the syndicate des coproprietaies back in France. Many of the shopkeepers agreed this was Mr. Brown’s way of trying to feel important, to have at least a modicum of control over what the others do. After all, there was no other reason to have an entire meeting dedicated to discussing the use of apostrophes on the signs in shop windows. Justine usually only went to one or two a year just to keep up appearances, but she knew some of the others wouldn’t bother coming.

The day had been going rather well as far as Justine was concerned. The customers for lunch had been a little busier than most days and her chefs were now setting up for dinner. Justine always closed the restaurant down for a few hours in the afternoon between lunch and dinner to allow the restaurant to reset and give her an opportunity to fill out the paperwork and balance the books. Today unfortunately she had to use the time to drop off information about the next meeting to the other shopkeepers. Fortunately, most shops had their main rushes during this time, so she would just drop off fliers for them and return to work.

Glancing at the list in her hand, Justine saw she was almost finished. She hadn’t needed to visit all the shops, which cut down on her rounds quite a bit. Neither Mr. Arnold or Ms. Sandwich attended the meetings, the meeting at Mr. Fell’s bookshop a few months ago being a fluke. She didn’t stop by the bookshop either. Mr. Fell hadn’t been around for a while from what she had seen, and he rarely participated in such events anyway. The next shop on the list was Maggie’s, the only shop she planned on actually spending any real time in. Maggie rarely had many customers, and Justine felt it would be a nice change of pace to speak to her for a few minutes.

As she pulled open the doors to the record shop, Justine could see Maggie actually wasn’t alone today. A man was leaning over the counter, with his arms folded in front of him holding the bulk of his weight. He owned the large black Bentley and despite not being a car fan herself, Justine knew it was a classic. She recalled briefly that she hadn’t seen the Bentley for a few months, but nearly a week ago the car returned, so logically so had he. “I guess I just don’t get why you’re inviting me.” Maggie was saying as Justine closed the door behind her. The man winced.

“Well, Muriel’s been trying to get a hobby as of late and found a whole section of cookbooks. Now they’re baking all these things in the kitchen and it’s starting to get out of hand. So maybe you and Nina could come over for the evening and help alleviate these baked goods?” the man said. His tone was light, a slower cadence to it in places that contradicted the expression on his face. Maggie frowned, noticing as well. Justine figured Muriel was the new employee at the bookshop.

“Are you trying to meddle again?” she asked. The man’s face looked almost stricken for a moment, and Maggie turned apologetic. “I’m sorry, I know you’re not meddling in mine and Nina’s love life…” she started. Justine tried to imagine a man like this meddling in others love lives and she wasn’t sure she could see it. “It’s just, this doesn’t seem like your thing.” Maggie said. The man offered a small smirk.

“Look, you and Muriel didn’t have the best start, and they are your landlord now so I thought maybe it would be good for both of you.” He admitted. Justine was stunned by that. The Fell family had always owned the property of Maggie’s bookstore among a few others on the street. If this ‘Muriel’ was the landlord now, did that mean Mr. Fell sold the bookshop? Did that mean Muriel was the landlord of the other properties? Maggie nodded, clearly not surprised by the information.

“I see. Have you heard from him at all?” she asked. Justine wondered who ‘he’ was, but clearly the man didn’t have any problem knowing. His face darkened, his smirk now replaced with a frown. His entire body flinched so hard that he pulled himself away from the counter and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“No, and I don’t expect to.” He said. His voice was tight now, on edge. This was clearly something he didn’t want to talk about. Maggie looked sad as well. “Look, Muriel will be finished playing around in the kitchen about five so…” he started, trying to change the subject. Maggie nodded. “Right then, see you!” he turned to notice Justine and gave a small wave before leaving the shop. Justine and Maggie both watched him go. He seemed so sad and heartbroken and Justine got the impression she intruded on something private.

“Good afternoon Justine.” Maggie greeted. Justine turned back to Maggie, the information for the meeting completely forgotten for the moment.

“Good afternoon…that was Mr. Fell’s friend?” she asked. Maggie nodded with a sad smile.

“Yes. Anthony Crowley. He’s quite a nice man when you get to know him.” She said. So that was the man’s name, Anthony Crowley. Mr. Fell had dragged him around a few times but no one ever gave a name. It made sense that if anyone knew what it was, it would be Maggie.

“I haven’t seen Mr. Fell in a while. Is he minding the bookshop for Mr. Fell?” Maggie’s darkening face told her that wasn’t it at all. Maggie looked upset, which was a rarity to Justine. Maggie had always been rather happy, always seen the best in things.

“No. Mr. Fell left. He apparently went back…home, and left everything here behind.” Her voice was cold, showing she was furious with Mr. Fell for just leaving. Justine tried to run this new information through her mind. She had known Mr. Fell for fifteen years, and from what she knew he had inherited the shop from his father. He had never mentioned having other family. She supposed the topic never came up, it’s not like she told him about her family back in France. There was quite a bit she didn’t know about Mr. Fell.

“He just…left it?” Justine asked. Mr. Fell had always seemed to love the bookshop. Maggie sighed.

“He handed it all over to Muriel…his cousin, but the poor dear has no idea what they are doing.” Maggie explained. That sadly made sense to Justine. Mr. Fell was the kind of person that went so far out of his way to show he was doing something nice that it came back around to be rude or even ignorant. In all the years that he knew Justine, he refused to speak to her in English and instead would try to use French. Try being the operative word. His grasp of the French language was weak, and even more baffling was words that he did use, some of which were practically archaic to the point she had only seen them used in historical novels. She didn’t know where he tried to learn French, but he wasn’t very good at it and Justine had spent the majority of their conversations trying to parse out what he was trying to tell her. On the rare occasion, Crowley would subtly give her information on what Mr. Fell was trying to say, probably being the only person who understood him. She always asked him to use English when talking to her so she could understand what he was trying to tell her, yet he never listened to her request. It made perfect sense to her that Mr. Fell would offer a job to someone without actually seeing if they knew what they were doing. He would figure that their desire to run a bookshop was enough and not even check if they knew any of the basics, dooming the person to a life a struggle because he was trying to help them achieve a dream.

“Did he train Muriel?” Justine asked, just to be sure. Maggie shook her head.

“No, just handed the keys to them and left. Good thing Crowley came back when he did. He’s been teaching Muriel everything.” Maggie went on to explain. Which lead to a whole new question.

“Why?” Justine asked. Justine had been primarily occupied with running her restaurant, something that had been a dream since her childhood. She didn’t really enter the dating scene much, but even she knew it was considered strange to hang around someone who you had ended a relationship with. True, Maggie didn’t say they had been dating but Justine didn’t doubt for a moment that they were in a relationship. The two were far too close, they had a language all their own. Literally.

“Oh, I called him. Muriel had gotten a little confused about laws and regulations and issued an eviction notice for me. I panicked but I couldn’t get ahold of Mr. Fell. He had left me a number a few years ago to call if I couldn’t contact him, I guess that number was Crowley’s. He came back to help explain things to Muriel, but he was going to leave after that. Nina was afraid he was going to drink a liquor store and sleep the rest of the century, so she made him stay to help Muriel run the bookshop.” Maggie explained. Justine winced at that. Crowley must have loved Mr. Fell quite a bit if being abandoned by him was driving him to get drunk and hide in depression. She was glad Nina could step in, but was working at the bookshop the best idea? Maybe it would be therapeutic? After all, if Mr. Fell abandoned him, the shop, Maggie, and Muriel then it could help show him his worth by holding it all together.

“That was very kind of him. I can’t believe Mr. Fell would just leave him behind though.” Justine admitted. Why would Mr. Fell just suddenly abandon him? Maggie’s expression darkened again.

“From what Muriel told us; Mr. Fell had asked Crowley to go with him when he went home.” She said. Justine frowned, tilting her head a little in confusion. “From what Muriel said, they don’t approve of Crowley much and he’s already been thrown out once. To go back, he would have had to make some significant changes.” She said. Justine blinked in surprise. Mr. Fell was the kind of person who came across as a very religious man and Crowley definitely did not fit that description. It would make sense his family must be very religious as well, and that they wouldn’t approve of Crowley. Mr. Fell loved Crowley, but not enough for him to be around his family? Justine couldn’t recall a situation where someone asked her to change things about herself to be in a relationship with them, but had it ever happened she would have never seen them again.

“I see.” She hummed. Maggie looked back over at the bookshop before turning back to Justine.

“Sorry about that, I’m sure you didn’t want to get involved in all this. Did you drop by about the next Monthly meeting?” she asked. Justine nodded, pulling out a paper with the information. It was true she wasn’t looking to get involved in any drama, but now that she knew about it she couldn’t just walk away. She wanted to do something to help Crowley, Muriel too now that she thought about it, but this was something out of Justine’s experience. Fortunately there was someone who would be more than happy to assist her with something like this.

Xxx

“I’m sorry, but we’re closed.” Ms. Cheng smiled at the young shopkeeper, Muriel if she had to guess from what Justine told her. Ms. Cheng hadn’t planned on getting involved, but she had a weak spot for drama and when Justine came to see her the other day she knew immediately that she would be doing something. Ms. Cheng and Justine met a little over a decade ago, when Justine had moved from France. Ms. Cheng had taken the young woman under her wing, because she knew what it was like to live in a foreign country. Her and her husband had moved to London shortly after their marriage, and they had opened their own restaurant. They picked the location well, choosing to be near London's 'China Town', where her and her husband could easily get involved with the community again. Justine had no such community available, and soon their friendship and working relationship was born.

Muriel seemed nice enough, but Ms. Cheng knew they were inexperienced and naive. She had seen the bookseller flailing ever since their arrival, clearly far out of their depth, but she hadn’t intervened because she didn’t know what was going on. When Justine came to see her and explained that Muriel was thrown into the position with no assistance or experience, Ms. Cheng couldn’t say it was shocking information. Yet for the last week and a half, the shopkeeper had been doing significantly better from what Ms. Chen witnessed, and that had everything to do with the return of the black Bentley. So when Justine expressed wanting to do something to help, Ms. Cheng was more than happy to help plan something.

“Yes, we are aware. We’re not here to shop, but we wanted to give you this.” Ms. Cheng said with a quick glance at Justine before handing over an envelope. Muriel looked at her curiously for a moment before opening the envelope and skimming it’s contents.

“A party?” Muriel asked. Ms. Cheng nodded.

“Yes. We wanted to have a small dinner party at my restaurant to welcome you to the neighborhood. We would have held it sooner, but my husband was fairly busy with a few deals and I didn’t want to add additional stress to him.” It wasn’t a total lie. They had been working on some additional deals with distributors and food companies in the last few months, so Mr. Cheng had been rather tied up. Muriel looked at the invitation thoughtfully, but didn’t comment any further.

“A normal shopkeeper would accept an invitation from their fellow shopkeepers to build better relations.” Ms. Cheng looked deeper into the shop to see the man who must be Crowley leaning against a door frame holding a glass with a liquid in it that could be scotch or whiskey. So Justine was right in her concern that Crowley would be drinking heavily. Breakups were hard.

“Really?” Muriel asked, looking at Crowley, and the man gave a single nod. Justine said he was teaching Muriel how to run a bookshop, and he was clearly teaching them how to navigate social events as well. Muriel seemed like someone who had been very sheltered growing up and was now just thrown into the world with no experience. Ms. Cheng felt a stab of anger at Mr. Fell for throwing this poor soul into such a situation. “Then I accept.” Muriel said, turning back to Ms. Cheng. She smiled before pulling out a second invitation and holding it out towards Crowley.

“Wot…” he started. His expression morphed into one of confusion and shock. Ms. Cheng didn’t move or speak for a moment, forcing him to move toward them and take the invitation with his full name ‘Anthony J. Crowley’ scrawled across the back. Justine had told her what his name was and a quick glance in the phone book for the spelling had given them his middle initial. He looked back up at her, his expression unreadable.

“You are helping run the bookshop as well. I know you’re not new to the street, but you are new to being a shopkeeper so naturally you are expected to come as well.” She spoke. Ms. Cheng was taking a different approach with Crowley than Muriel. According to Justine it was Nina’s heavy handed approach that kept him from retreating from the world, so coddling him wasn’t going to work. She needed to be firm and direct. Crowley just looked at her for a moment, or she assumed he had since she couldn’t see his eyes due to the glasses. It was like he wasn’t used to being given orders like this, or at least not by those without authority over him. Then he just gave a single nod, taking the invitation from her. She nodded.

“Should we bring anything?” there was almost a sarcastic edge to his voice, like he was daring her to make further demands of him. For a moment she thought about ordering for him to bring a desert or something just to see how he would react, but she decided against it. The purpose of this dinner was to show both Muriel and Crowley that the community was here and willing to help them. Ms. Cheng remembered how hard it was to meet new people and make friends when she started. They all knew what it was like to be a stranger somewhere without a support system and having to build one from scratch. It was the least they could do to help give that support system to these two.

“Just yourselves.” She said. He nodded, forcing a small smile.

Chapter Text

“This way Mr. Crowley.” Mutt glanced over to see the guests of honor for the party had finally arrived. Ms. Cheng had informed them all of their names, as very few had apparently knew them. The tall red haired man was Crowley, and the smaller woman was Muriel. Muriel was a happy and excited ball of energy where Crowley was reserved, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Mutt could understand that. His beloved spouse Drew hated being at social events too much, but sometimes they would put up with it for Mutt.
Mutt did enjoy going to some of the community events, but only if they were something Drew wanted to do. Tonight was one of those events that they felt it was only right they went to. They hadn’t really had a ‘welcome party’ on the street before, but the gossip around made them curious enough, and after the strange gathering at Mr. Fell’s they couldn’t help but wish to learn more. Muriel seemed to notice the two of them standing there and smiled at them. “Hello fellow shopkeepers. I am just a human book seller!” she said with a bright smile. Crowley half rolled his whole head, almost in exasperation, before turning to Muriel.

“No, no, don’t do that. Just say hello and introduce yourself.” He said. It wasn’t unkind, just instructional. Muriel nodded to Crowley before turning back to them.

“I mean, hello, I’m Muriel.” She said. Mutt smiled and offered a small half bow.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Muriel, I am Mutt and this is my beloved Drew.” He said. He glanced at Crowley before holding out a hand. “And Mr. Crowley, it is a pleasure to see you again.” He said. Mutt had seen Crowley a few times but they never really talked. The man was quiet and reserved. He was also a little odd, Mutt recalling him playing with a fez and a glass ball while Mutt spoke to Mr. Fell. Crowley shook the hand he offered. Muriel glanced around, then turned back to Crowley.

“I don’t see Nina or Maggie.” She said. Crowley frowned as he looked around quickly as well.

“They’ll be along. Why don’t you go get something to eat?” Crowley proposed. Muriel’s smile fell. In fact, she almost looked nervous.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly. We’re not supposed to eat and well…” Muriel stumbled through her words and Mutt frowned, trying to parse them out. Was Muriel one of those people who didn’t eat in public? Mutt had met a few people like that through the years. Crowley sighed.

“Muriel, it’s fine. Go try it. You know, angel would have already tried half…anyway, he’d be eating it.” Mutt saw the pain in the man’s face. ‘Angel’ must be Mr. Fell. Muriel seemed reassured and gave a nod. Drew smiled, stepping forward.

“Why don’t we go check out what they have? Sound good mate?” they asked. Mutt practically fell in love with Drew all over again, every time they did something kind even though they weren’t a very social person. Muriel nodded enthusiastically and the two were off. Mutt watched them disappear in the sea of people before turning back to Crowley.

“You’re doing good with that one you know.” He said. He had heard Crowley had only been here to look after Muriel. Mutt hadn’t believed it until he saw them interact now, with how Crowley seemed to be trying to teach someone who was clearly sheltered and away from people, and how Muriel seemed to look up to them. Crowley actually looked pained at the compliment.

“They are good without my influence.” He said. ‘They’, Crowley said. Muriel wasn’t a she, but rather a nonbinary. Mutt had heard people call them ‘she’ and assumed that was their pronouns. Mentally he corrected himself to ensure he didn’t make that mistake again.

“That’s not what I heard. Besides, you clearly have a good influence.” Mutt said. Crowley looked at him, frozen for a moment like in shock before he let out a low laugh. Mutt wondered what he said had been so funny, but Crowley’s expression turned into a smirk.

“I think you’re the very first person to ever say I had a good influence on others.” Mutt frowned. That one sentence had a lot of history to it. Clearly Crowley was not someone who got many compliments. Was he the black sheep of his family? Someone who was cast out? Crowley was not straight, was that something his family had an issue with? Looking closer at Crowley, Mutt could see his clothes were a mix of men’s and women’s clothes. He had assumed people gave him the right pronouns for Muriel, and he had assumed people gave him the right ones for Crowley as well.

“If I may ask, what pronouns do you use?” Mutt was surprised at how much that question seemed to throw Crowley off. Maybe he never got asked that before?

“Uh, male. At the moment.” He said. Mutt thought about that.

“Gender Fluid?” he asked. Crowley smirked again.

“If you have to label it.” He confirmed. So Crowley had used female pronouns and nonbinary pronouns at times. Mutt nodded to show he understood. He wondered what he should say next, but he was grasping at straws. “So, you own Will Goldstone’s Magic Shop. Didn’t a guy name Pat own that?” Crowley asked. Mutt almost laughed at the question.
“Yes, once. It came into my family’s possession after that.” He confirmed. Pat was the owner of the shop before Mutt’s father, the man who owned the shop in 1941 before suddenly going missing without a trace. Maybe Crowley’s grandfather told him about the store’s history? It seemed such an odd thing that he should know. Crowley just gave a sharp nod to the information.

“Right, sorry, bad memory for names and dates.” Crowley mumbled. Mutt figured Crowley was probably anti-social. They rarely came to social events after all. Mutt was pretty sure Crowley only decided to come to ensure Muriel did. “I should probably go make sure Muriel doesn’t do something foolish. It was nice talking to you.” Crowley then moved off. Mutt chuckled at their quick departure.

“Is everything alright love?” Drew asked, by his side so fast that Mutt would have said it was by magic. Mutt nodded.

“Just talking to Mr. Crowley…ah, Miss Nina.” He greeted as the disgruntled coffee shop owner came into the restaurant. In a way, Mutt could see a number of similarities between Crowley and Nina. Both were straight to the point people, a little abrasive at times, and having a strong desire to keep to themselves. If Mutt had to put money on it, he would assume Nina was only here because Maggie was forcing her. Mutt speculated there was something going on between the two of them, but after everything that happened with Crowley and Fell it was probably best to leave it alone. Something would happed or it wouldn’t, it really wasn’t their place.

“Hi.” She said, almost absently, like she would rather be anywhere in the world except there. She was scanning the crowd.

“Maggie is with Muriel at the moment, apparently they have never had Chinese before.” Drew said. Nina frowned.

“Ah, that’s nice. Have either of you seen Crowley?” Nina asked, still looking around. It wasn’t too surprising the Mutt, since Crowley seemed to be closer to the two of them than anyone else. Well, that wasn’t exactly true now. Mutt couldn’t help but wonder what exactly Crowley’s relationship was with Muriel. Was he their mentor? Guardian? He didn’t know who Muriel was or how they came in possession of Mr. Fell’s shop, but it seemed Crowley came along with the deed and was now doing his best to ensure Muriel was successful. The three of them looked around and Mutt easily recognized the red hair of Crowley's. Crowley was the only permanent resident on the street with that color of hair. It looked like he was talking to Mr. Brown, or rather Mr. Brown was talking to him and Crowley was being polite.

"There he is." Drew said. Nina chuckled.

"I suppose I should go rescue him." Nina said. She walked away and Mutt couldn't help but smile. He didn't know how Nina factored into the odd friendship either, but he knew she was a good influence on Crowley. He watched as Nina reached Crowley's side, said something he couldn't catch and start to drag Crowley away. The lanky man gave a lazy salute before allowing Nina to pull him off. Mutt took the opportunity to finish his drink before turning to Drew.

"Are you ready to go my beloved?" he asked. Drew looked almost relieved and the two of them headed out to return home.