Work Text:
"You have got to be joking," Crowley muttered, poking his head cautiously above trench level.
No one shot; the voices singing Stille Nacht still rose into the sky. One of the singers' voices cracked, spiralling up an octave and Crowley winced, picturing a boy who should be home, safe in Bavaria. He looked back at his men, who watched him, wide-eyed. Sod this, he thought. It was time to show them how humans were supposed to act.
Acting as if he had perfect faith in their goodwill, Captain Crowley ascended the ladder and walked towards the singing Germans, hand outstretched.