31 Days of Kisses: A Good Omen Advent Calendar

There Was Only One Closet

Cold War human!AU

1963

"I can't believe we were both trying to assassinate the same bloke," Crowley hissed. "You'd think our sides would coordinate better."

"Just like the last World War all over again," sighed Aziraphale, fidgeting. The broom cupboard was very small, and he was afraid his girth had been increasing lately. He'd been inclined to stoutness since the end of rationing. He didn't want to make Crowley uncomfortable by bumping his stomach against him. The devil was so very lean, and stylish, and attractive, and yes there definitely should be more space between them for safety's sake. He pressed himself further against the wall, aware of a broom sticking into his back, and tried to make light conversation. "Do you remember being young, innocent intelligence agents, sent after the same General?"

"I do. First time we ever got drunk together and exchanged spy stories. Start of the Arrangement. Those were the days." Aziraphale was almost sure Crowley was leering in the darkness. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

"No, they were not," Aziraphale said firmly. "It was a horrid war."

"I suppose you're right." Crowley deflated a bit. "War is foul."

They were both quiet as footsteps went down the passage outside the room, but no one entered, and they relaxed.

"Besides," Aziraphale said belatedly, "I don't assassinate people. I was going to peacefully accost him."

"And if he resisted?"

"Sometimes I am forced to resort to self-defence," Aziraphale said primly, and Crowley snickered.

"Your lot are such hypocrites."

"Just because MI5 don't go around killing and blackmailing willy-nilly."

"Like Hell you don't."

"I don't."

"Well, maybe not you."

"Certainly not me."

There was a change in the atmosphere. It was colder and more dismal and frankly Aziraphale just wanted to escape from there. Any residual excitement from being pressed in a small dark place with his... adversary... had dissolved.

"Did I say something wrong?" Crowley asked, eventually.

"My dear fellow, of course not."

"Urgh, yeah, I did. I know that tone of voice. What did I say?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me when you're ready." Really, how could the Enemy, ruthless and evil as they were, sound so deceptively gentle and patient? But then, that was the trick and temptation of it. Crowley's side dealt in temptation.

"It turns out that Vassall was indeed compromised in a honey trap with an attractive young man."

"Oh. Um, nnnnrgh yeah. Wasn't me."

"I didn't suggest it was. Besides, no one would describe you as an attractive young man."

"Low, low blow. Look, have I ever blackmailed you?"

"Yes. Obviously. It's what you do."

"Saying let's go get pie-eyed and think up how to explain to both our sides how we didn't actually bollocks this up is not blackmail, Aziraphale."

"What if I'd said no?"

"You never say no." Silence. "Fine, that was the wrong thing to say too. Is this about that article in the Sunday Mirror?"