The date was July 13th, 1985. It was 6 PM and Sting was currently blaring into the mic about wanting a certain music channel on his television. It was nice. The entire day had been pretty great, in fact, and it was only bound to get better. The Dire Straits started the opening riff to Money For Nothing, and the main event was still out by about 40 minutes.

Live Aid was a charity event, sure, but Crowley decided it didn't matter. Most of these guys wouldn't get into Heaven, and some of them would be hailed as heroes in Hell. Not because they did something wrong, or because they were bad people in any way. No, Above's taste in music was simply non-existent. He was just supporting his guys while he could, he liked to think.

Besides, he'd just been let go as young Warlock's nanny. He could really use a break. The demon was perfectly content just singing, clapping and jumping along to the music, together with the other 71.999 people in Wembley Stadium. That was, until someone backed into him, sending him stumbling backwards and spilling his drink all over him.

"Oh dear, I'm sorr- Crowley? What are you doing here?"

"Azira- I should be asking you the same thing!"

"I asked you first." The angel said, crossing his arms over his linen button-up shirt.

He also wore light khakis and sandals, and Crowley noticed a drop of sweat rolling down his furrowed brows. It was so hot, even the angel was dressing down. Earth summers had nothing on the fires of Hell, though, so Crowley was more than comfortable in his usual getup.

"Okay, okay." The demon said, raising his hands in self-defense. "Before you get the wrong impression, I'm here purely for the music. Just supporting my people."

"Of course you are." The angel chuckled, shaking his head. "Same difference. You paid for your ticket, so your money is still going to those in need."

"Now, out with it, why are you here?"

"It's charity, Crowley. This concert is humanity at its very best. Performers are here completely for free, everyone in the audience paid a nominal fee to be here, I can pretty much sense the donations coming in." Aziraphale said, excitedly waving his arms. "There's so much love and happiness here, it's practically vibrating in the air!"

"Yeah, I forgot that stuff works like crack cocaine on angels." Crowley said, snorting with laughter.

"I'm serious, Crowley." Aziraphale said sternly.

Crowley shook his head and gave Aziraphale an amicable smile. "Let me propose a truce. On top of our regular Arrangement. A double truce, if you will. We'll be buddies, just for today. We'll drink, we'll dance, we'll just be friends." He said, extending a hand to Aziraphale. He had already spent more time with the angel in the last six years than the entire century before that, and they would spend even more time together in the foreseeable future. What difference would buddying up on a day off make?

The angel nodded and shook the demon's hand. "Sure. Sounds like fun, if nothing else."

"Great! You can start by refilling that lager you spilled on me just now." Crowley joked, shaking the empty, plastic cup in front of Aziraphale's face, who refilled it with the blink of an eye anyway.

They laughed. Then they sang, then they danced along to Sultans of Swing, until at 6.41 the announcer took the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Her Majesty, Queen!"

The cheers from the crowd were deafening and once the shrill keys of the piano had sounded around 150 countries around the world, Crowley and Aziraphale belted out along with 1,5 billion others,

"Mama, just killed a man..."