Sometimes it's Just Too Easy

Chapter 2

Crowley spent the rest of the afternoon skulking around the shop. He was definitely not pouting. Demons don't pout. He was scouting out prime places to mess with the self-proclaimed 'Ghostfacers' where he could observe from behind a shelf.

The angel was doing his own preparing, tucking away any particularly valuable books and collecting volumes on occult or ethereal business so they investigators wouldn't find them.

"I don't see why it matters," Crowley said as Aziraphale tucked them into a safe that hadn't been there before. "They're going to be more focused on me than anything you have in here."

"I'm just being cautious," the angel defended. "What if their investigation is a ruse? What if they find one of these and figure out how to hurt you?"

Crowley thought back to their barely-contained excitement when they were granted permission to return. He hummed. "I doubt it."

"Even so..." Aziraphale said.

Just then the door opened, and the two Americans rushed in, each carrying what looked to be their own weight in equipment. Crowley's eyebrows rose. Cameras? Computer screens? Whatever was in those bags? Amateurs.

Aziraphale spluttered. "What's all that?"

"Oh, just some official equipment we use to detect and document ghosts," Glasses sniffed, searching for a clear place to set everything down.

"But I haven't got a ghost-"

"Where there are demons, ghosts aren't far behind," Glasses said cryptically.

Crowley snickered.

The Americans turned to him, affronted. "Looks like we've got ourselves a non-believer!" Harry's eyes narrowed. The pins on his vest caught the light and Crowley was thinking 'Buttons' would be a good name for him.

"Oh, I'm a believer alright."

"Yes, well," Aziraphale said, "can I offer you a cup of tea?"

Glasses hefted one of the bags while Buttons answered. "Actually, since we're going to be here all night we'd like some coffee."

Aziraphale blanched. "All ni-"

"Of course!" Crowley interrupted, grabbing his angel by the shoulders and steering him back towards the flat. "Pot of coffee, coming right up! Why don't you gentlemen put your stuff down over by the desk and make yourselves at home?"

"Crowley!" Aziraphale exclaimed as soon as they were through the other room and into the kitchen. "All night? I thought they were only going to be here an hour or so!"

The demon shrugged. "It'll just give us more time to mess with them."

Aziraphale huffed. "I don't even own a coffee pot."

Crowley nodded to the counter and a rather nice coffee maker appeared, bubbling away.

"You are almost more trouble than you're worth," the angel sighed, but there was no conviction to his words. "Just don't break anything please."

"I would never."

Aziraphale smiled. "No, I suppose not. You're far too nice."

Crowley scowled. "I'm not-"

"Don't let them break anything either," the principality began rummaging through the cabinets, retrieving a box of biscuits.

The demon deflated. "Yes alright..."

Aziraphale gave him a triumphant smile. "Now go make sure their blundering isn't going to mess anything up. And don't," he added as Crowley made to return to the book shop, "get yourself into any trouble."

"Me? Never."

The angel scoffed but allowed his friend to leave. By the time Crowley made it back into the main bookshop, the Ghostfacers had set up three cameras on tripods, each facing different directions, and were halfway setting up a fourth. They'd commandeered the desk to set up two laptops, to which the cameras seemed to be patched in. He raised an eyebrow. These dudes were serious.

"Don't break anything," he warned even as the now-cold mug of cocoa mysteriously slid off the desk and crashed on the ground. He stared down at it apathetically.

"Did you get that?" Glasses asked his partner excitedly.

Too easy, Crowley thought with glee.

"What was that?" Aziraphale fretted, rushing back into the room with a tray containing his offerings to their guests. He froze when he saw the mug, shoulders drooping for a moment before hitting Crowley with a glare so heated he nearly flinched. Nearly. "That was my favorite mug," he said sadly.

A pang of guilt shot through the demon. He came up behind Aziraphale and rested his chin on his shoulder. "I'll fix it," he promised.

Buttons snickered. "That'll be impossible."

Crowley shrugged and stepped back so his angel could set the tray down. "So I'll buy a new one."

That earned him a small smile.

"Gaaaaay," Glasses stage whispered to his partner.

Crowley turned a sinister smile on the pair and tilted his head slightly. "Problem?"

The pair shared a look. "No, not at all!" Glasses sputtered.

"Gay love pierced the veil of death and saved the day!" Buttons added.

It was his and Aziraphale's turn to share a confused look. "...What..."

No elaboration came, as the Americans were distracted by the sudden crash of one of their cameras.

"Crowley," Aziraphale warned as the men shouted and scrambled to see if their equipment was damaged. "Breaking things?"

"You never said their stuff was off-limits."

The angel let out a long-suffering sigh and went to help Glasses and Buttons. Crowley snickered and slunk off to hide among bookshelves and get to work.