A/N: I thought that, since in the book version it's entirely possible the Nanny and Gardener weren't Aziraphale and Crowley themselves, it would be funny if they - and perhaps the tutors as well - had an Arrangement of their own behind the Angel and Demon's backs. So I wrote this. Nothing special, but it made me giggle when I thought it up, so I thought readers on here might enjoy it a little too.

Our Little Team

A Good Omens fanfiction

Aziraphale was having a pleasant walk in Saint James' Park. He was not meeting Crowley or feeding the ducks (usually one was the direct result of the other, anyway, in differing orders); for once he was just strolling for the simple pleasure of enjoying the crisp autumn day. He was also, quite gleefully, contemplating hot cocoa and biscuits upon his return to the bookshop.

He halted suddenly when he recognised a familiar face, give or take ten years, walking an equally familiar large grey dog.

"Heel, Rover, heel!" the man protested, tugging haplessly at the brute's leash to very little actual avail.

"Goodness!" exclaimed Aziraphale, waving to him. "Brother Francis!"

The man blanched and clutched the leash in his hands a little more loosely. His eyes kept darting to the people passing them, almost hungrily, as if he was thinking how dearly he would like to shove the leash into one of their hands like stolen property and sprint off the pathway before Aziraphale could reach him. Despite the paleness of his countenance, there was clearly so much hot adrenaline pumping in this – scarcely young – man one could easily believe he was plotting a getaway that involved jumping a high fence and swimming a channel.

He fairly reeked of desperation.

Of course the angel – cheerful and somewhat oblivious, though not so much as Brother Francis might have hoped – reached him long before he could try it.

He frowned a little at the dog. "Isn't that... Isn't that Nanny Ashtoreth's dog?" The big, scary bugger was hard to mistake for any other beast. Even little Warlock had been frightened of it, in the old days, as well he should have been.

"Who? Him?" Brother Francis swallowed, gulping heavily, beads of sweat rolling down his doughy face. "Nnnn..." He thought better of lying to an angel. "That is, yes... I'm just walking him for her."

"I didn't know you and Ashtoreth still saw one another." The angel did not say this condemningly in the least, but the guilty Brother Francis projected that tone onto him.

In reality, there was no malice – only surprise – on his face when Aziraphale noticed the man's eyes dart – like they were trying very hard not to – involuntarily down to his left hand.

Brother Francis wore a gold wedding band.

"Oh, good lord."

"It wasn't just us!" protested Brother Francis, blithering on pitifully as if he was expecting Aziraphale to smite him. "Those incorrigible tutors were best friends behind your back! They were always breaking into Harriet Dowling's liquor cabinet together, merry as anything. And we weren't doing anything wrong – at least not meaningfully, you know.

"I mean, really, the demon Crowley had his people there, and you had yours, so it was always bound to be a draw. I mean, coming to an arrangement was just good sense." The dog pulled more insistently on the leash. "Stop that, Rover." To Aziraphale, he continued, frantic, "I know how much you two hated one another – demon and angel, what – and I don't know what happened with Armageddon, seeing as we're all still here. But I did what you told me – I told the boy Warlock to show love to all living creatures. And he recited it perfectly. He retained it. He just retained what his nanny told him, too."

Aziraphale was struggling not to burst out laughing. Hated Crowley? If only Brother Francis knew. He merely smiled, his best knowing smile – the one that only angels can manage under such circumstances, because it is just a little like how God smiles.

"Anyhow, when it was all over, Ashtoreth said to me she was going to be lonesome, with no children to teach dark nursery rhymes to, and – worse yet – nobody left to love. So I said..." He cleared his throat. "I said, well, I'm not keen on your methods of bringing up children, but you can love me if you want, and we'll get married so'as to do our loving more conveniently."

Despite himself, Aziraphale couldn't resist saying, a little from residual shock and a little from wanting to tease the man (after all, he had kept secrets from him), "You do know she's a Satanist, right?"

"Nobody's perfect," Brother Francis murmured, trying miserably to read Aziraphale's unreadable face.

Rover snapped his teeth at a passing squirrel.

"Hush, Rover."

The angel had mercy on him. "Go in peace, my dear fellow." He patted him gently on the arm. "I forgive you. Go on and get that dog back to your wife before it eats someone." Rover was starting to get a rather ravenous look on his saliva-spotted face.

Now that he was in the clear, Brother Francis felt a twinge of conscience. "You won't punish Cortese, either?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." Aziraphale shook his head; it looked sombre, contemplative, but really he was still struggling not to laugh. He was thinking – and it was not helping – of Crowley's reaction when he told him about this. And he'd have to – partly because he wanted to, partly because of their own Arrangement, and partly because Nanny Ashtoreth was one of Crowley's people. Or had been, before they'd stopped having sides. He wondered, briefly, if that meant that Brother Francis wasn't actually one of his any longer.

It was all rather confusing.

A number of people in the chilly hall Crowley had let for the occasion shifted on their icy metal folding-chairs. They had no idea why the demon had gathered them all here today – he hadn't sent for any of them for well over a decade.

Now, all of them here, together, like this?

Something had to be up.

There was an old-school projector near where Crowley stood when he entered and stationed himself in front of them. They thought, perhaps, he meant to show them a presentation of some kind and relaxed a little. Then they tensed again when he made no effort to turn it on, choosing to glare at them glarefully instead.

"It's been brought to my attention," he said slowly, circling around the large group in long laps, giving them all the side-eye from behind his dark sunglasses, "that some of you have come to an...arrangement...over the years...with what you believed to be the opposition..."

Harrison's heart beat wildly in his chest. They'd found out! He had to get out of here and warn Cortese! Poor, poor Cortese. His dearest friend. Had the angel punished him already? Was there any hope? He was more frightened for Cortese than for himself. He'd fight the scrawny, snake-eyed demon if he had to, but Cortese was such a delicate fellow, so innocent... If the angel smote him, who'd be there to protect him?

"I am going to make this simple," Crowley told them, pausing and standing not as close to Harrison's chair as the terrified former tutor expected. "How many of you are not secretly working with one of Aziraphale's crew?"

A couple smug hands went up.

"I will find out," Crowley warned them.

They dropped back down. Several cheeks reddened.

"So let me get this right," he swallowed, holding back laughter, dourly pretending to count heads. "All of you?"

There were nods and murmurs, and also a great deal of finger pointing. A few persons started making desperate yelping noises in Crowley's general direction.

"What are you going to do us?" Harrison asked, slowly rising from his seat, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Oh, nothing at all," said Crowley, with a serpentine smile. "You'll notice I didn't put my hand up, either."

Harrison stared uncomprehendingly for a long moment. Then the coin dropped. "Oh."

Crowley arrived at the bookshop clutching a messy notebook with several pages stained and falling out.

The angel would no doubt have one of own, surely much neater, to compare with his.

Aziraphale was a couple feet from the door, eagerly awaiting him, unquelled laughter and mild embarrassment in his impatient expression.

"All of your lot?" Crowley asked, brow raised.

The numbers added up, after all. There was enough for each of his crew who'd confessed the evening before to have had exactly one buddy from Aziraphale's.

The angel sucked in his lower lip and offered his pristine notebook to Crowley after producing it from behind his back. "Mm-hmm."

A/N: Reviews welcome, replies may be delayed.