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English
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Part 1 of Angels, Demons, and Hunters
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Published:
2019-07-23
Completed:
2019-08-03
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3,295
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4/4
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Sometimes it's Just Too Easy

Summary:

“Yes, hi, are you the owner of this store?” a man asked loudly. American, judging from the accent.
Aziraphale’s reply was clipped, but he confirmed he did indeed own the place.
“Have you noticed any… unusual activity?” Another American piped in, just as loud as the first man.
“Like what?” Aziraphale’s voice was a little higher now.
“Flickering lights, cold spots…”
“Tapping in the walls, sulfur smell?”
“Books falling off the shelves by themselves?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Aziraphale squeaked. Crowley could clearly picture him waving his hand dismissively.
“Ed and Harry, professional paranormal investigators. We were on vacation when we heard there was demonic activity in the area,” Glasses introduced, indicating himself as Ed.
“Professionals,” Harry repeated.
Glasses – Crowley thought it was much better name – presented a business card.
“Ghostfacers?”

Notes:

Saw this on Pinterest and promised to write it... apparently I have no impulse control and I'm editing my other fic so... Here's another one.

Might be smut later; I don't know. You guys decide. Let me know what you want in the comments.

I am going out of town to visit my uncle for a few days so I may or may not update while I'm there. I'll try to at least get my editing for No Rest for Fallen Angels done so I can post a new chapter this week!

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

The shop door opened and closed, the sound of whispering announcing the presence of… customers.

Crowley grinned at Aziraphale from where he lounged in the recliner he’d long ago claimed as his.  “Time to sell some books,” he said.

The angel scowled, placed his mug of cocoa on the table a little harder than necessary, and briskly walked into the main shop.  Crowley snickered at the angel’s gruff greeting.  Why he even bothered pretending to be a shop when it was more like a hoard was beyond the demon; it’s not like he needed the money.  He could just get himself a nice big house with a library and not have to worry about stubborn patrons with collections of their own making off with his precious books.

“Yes, hi, are you the owner of this store?” a man asked loudly.  American, judging from the accent.

Aziraphale’s reply was clipped, but he confirmed he did indeed own the place.

“Have you noticed any… unusual activity?” Another American piped in, just as loud as the first man.  Crowley thought they both sounded rather… haughty. Very high-and-mighty.  Typical of Americans, really, he thought.

“Like what?” Aziraphale’s voice was a little higher now.

“Flickering lights, cold spots…”

“Tapping in the walls, sulfur smell?”

“Books falling off the shelves by themselves?”

They even finished each other’s sentences.

The turn of conversation had piqued Crowley’s attention though.  He sat up and leaned forward, listening a little closer.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Aziraphale squeaked.  Crowley could clearly picture him waving his hand dismissively.

A mischievous grin slowly split the demon’s face.  He blew gently in the direction of the door leading to the shop, sending a chill with it. He moved to lean in the doorway, wanting to watch the interaction. 

The two men standing with the angel were rather unremarkable to the demon.  Both were of average height and stood like they were trying to be professional. They looked anything but. One had dark brown hair and wore glasses, while the other had black hair.  Glasses-man wore a dark brown jacket. The other fellow wore a light vest decorated with a few pins.  Crowley’s immediate thought was “nerds”.

Aziraphale shot the demon in the doorway a dirty look as the cold spot hit them and the two men shared an excited look.  Crowley shrugged innocently as a pile of books on the desk flew onto the floor. He’d pay for that later, he was sure, but this was too good an opportunity to miss. The expression on the angel’s face changed from one of annoyance to something that promised retribution. A shiver ran down the demon’s spine; he loved it when Aziraphale looked at him like that.

“Ed and Harry, professional paranormal investigators.  We were on vacation when we heard there was demonic activity in the area,” Glasses introduced, indicating himself as Ed.

“Professionals,” Harry repeated.

Glasses – Crowley thought it was much better name – presented a business card.

“Ghostfacers?” The angel asked after examining it.

“That’s right,” Harry said.

“We’d like to investigate the store. Demonic… interference can be quite dangerous,” Ed continued.

Crowley sauntered over at this point, hands in his pockets as he casually peered at the card over Aziraphale’s shoulder. The Americans gave him a startled look, as if they hadn’t noticed him in the doorway behind the store owner.

“Be a dear and pick up those books for me, would you?” Aziraphale asked, voice dripping with false sweetness.

Crowley flashed the group a smile and did as instructed, dropping them with a loud thump and earning himself another sour look from the angel. He turned back to the ‘Ghostfacers’. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ve never had a problem before-”

A bookshelf teetered dangerously and Aziraphale rushed to steady it.  He turned so the Americans couldn’t see his face and mouthed “Don’t you dare,” to the demon leaning the edge of his desk.  

“We won’t get in your way,” Glasses promised. “We have experience with these things.  We can have the entity gone in no time.”

Aziraphale turned back around and gave them a winning smile. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.  I close in three hours; why don’t you come back then?”

Ed and Harry enthusiastically agreed, their excitement starting to crack their false professionalism.  Crowley had the distinct impression they were moments away from jumping up and down. They hurriedly left, whispering about gear and the two of them.

“What kind of a douchebag wears sunglasses inside?”

Crowley smirked.

“You, my dear, are in a lot of trouble.” Aziraphale snapped the moment the humans were gone.

“Oh please. Sulfur? They’ve clearly been messing with the lower demons. I seriously doubt they know anything about Fallen angels.”

Aziraphale’s eyes narrowed.  “I didn’t mean from them.”

Crowley shivered again. “Oh really?”

The angel was across the room in moments, both hands gripping Crowley’s lapels and shoving him backwards through the door into the flat.  It swung closed behind him. He spun them around and slammed him against the wall. It was quite interesting being on this side of the interaction, the demon thought.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.  “Encouraging paranormal investigators? If word gets around this place is haunted, we shall never have a moment’s peace!”

“Relax, I’m just having a bit of fun! Those two dunces could never be credible in the paranormal community.” Crowley shrugged.  “They’re way too easy to excite.”

Aziraphale pressed against him harder. “Don’t you ever abuse my books like that again.”

“Or what?”

“There will be consequences.”

Crowley scoffed.  “Oh yeah? What’re you going to do, press me against the wall and scold me?” He rolled his hips into the angel. “That doesn’t exactly deter me.”

A dangerous smile spread over Aziraphale’s face. He leaned in so his face was next to the demon’s.  His breath was hot against Crowley’s ear. “I’ll compliment your plants.”

Crowley gasped in horror.  “You wouldn’t!”

The angel leaned back again, still smiling. “I would. Don’t mess with my books.” He released Crowley and wandered back to his mug of cocoa.

The demon pouted.  “Aww, come on Angel,” he whined.

Aziraphale sipped his drink and just passively watched as Crowley slunk towards him.

“We’ve got three hours until they come back,” the snake said hopefully before kissing his angel. “You could close early-” he began peppering kissing up his jaw. “-punish me properly-”

Aziraphale tilted his head slightly, giving his partner better access to his neck. “Go on,” he hummed.

“We can enjoy some time before they take over,” he murmured into his skin.

“Mhmm…”

Crowley moved up to his ear, a triumphant grin already forming. “Let’s lock the door and head upstairs…”

Aziraphale stepped back.  The demon looked at him in confusion as the angel smiled sweetly. “No.”

“Wha- why not?” What on earth just happened?

The principality sipped his cocoa again and began walking back towards the main shop, flashing him a smug grin over his shoulder.  “You’re in trouble.”

Well.

Damn.

Chapter 2

Summary:

The Ghostfacers return and Crowley seems determined to piss Aziraphale off.

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter 3

Summary:

Let's get down to business
To defeat
The dunce(s)

Chapter Text

“Ah yes, untying their shoelaces.  How original.”

“If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it,” Crowley shrugged, snickering as Buttons tripped, crashed into Glasses, and took both of them down in a tangle of limbs and wires.

Aziraphale sighed, leaning against the bookshelf behind them while the demon continued to peer through the books on his shelf.  “If you turn this place into a paranormal hotspot, I’m locking you out.”

“Tie your shoes!” Glasses snapped as they untangled themselves.

“I did!” Buttons defended, fumbling with his laces around all the gear encasing the rest of his body.

“You really are strange, my dear,” Aziraphale said fondly.

“You should try it.  It’s fun.”

The angel shook his head.  “That is far more your forte.”

“Come on,” Crowley wheedled, pushing back from his shelf and joining his friend. “Just one small prank.”

Blue eyes narrowed. “Are you tempting me?”

Crowley thought for a moment.  “Yes,” he decided.  “They’re here; you might as well have fun with it.”

Aziraphale broke.  “Oh, alright.” He peered around the end of the shelf at the Americans, who were currently still bickering while checking their body cameras to make sure they weren’t damaged in their fall.

One of Buttons’ pins wobbled and popped off his vest. The argument stopped. “What…”

Two more followed in rapid succession, then the rest of them at once.  The Americans stared at the mess of pins between them, dumbfounded.

Aziraphale and Crowley both fell into fits of laugher, covering their mouths to keep from being obvious.  “It is pretty fun,” the angel admitted, peeking back out to watch them try to pick the pins up.

‘Try’ being the operative words, given they appeared to be stuck to the floor.

The ethereal beings giggled.

The rest of the evening was spent with the angel and demon playing similar pranks, following the investigators through the small shop while trying to keep them from sneaking into the flat and supplying them with coffee and biscuits. It was around three in the morning when Crowley and Aziraphale returned from the flat to overhear the Ghostfacers whispering together. Crowley snuck closer to eavesdrop.

“It’s just messing with us,” Buttons was saying.  “I don’t think this is a demon.”

“What else could it be? The EMF isn’t showing anything. We don’t even have death echoes.”

“I don’t know! What else do we know of that likes to play pranks and destroy things?”

Glasses dug a book out of his bag and began flipping through it, his partner looking over his shoulder.  “Could be a trickster,” he murmured.

“Great.  We don’t know anything about those.”

They looked up at each other, then grimaced at the same time.

“No. No way,” Buttons said.

“They’ll know what to do though,” Glasses pointed out, “much as I don’t want to call them…”

“Do you think they’re even still alive?”

“Those douchebags? Absolutely.  They’ve got that freaky trench-coat angel guy hanging around them anyway.”

Crowley shot a glance back at his angel, brow furrowing.  Aziraphale looked just as lost as he was.

Buttons groaned. “Fine,” he drew out the ‘i’ sound. “You have to do it though.”

“Why me?”

“Your idea.”

Glasses gave in with a disgusted sound and pulled his phone from his pocket.

Crowley slunk back and he and his angel returned to their flat, both confused as he- er, something, and wondering who they could be calling.

The rest of the night passed by quietly, the book shop’s permanent residents too concerned about who they might have called to fuss over more than a few light tricks here and there. The investigators were buzzing with excitement when they left, saying something about how much money they were going to make off their tape.

Crowley leaned into Aziraphale as they watched them go.  “I erased it,” he snickered.

Aziraphale smiled. “Probably for the best.  Pity; they were nice.”

The demon made a face.  “They called me a douchebag.”

His friend just hummed and walked back inside, locking the door behind them both. “It was fun though,” he pecked his demon on the lips.  “Time to clean up.”

It was Crowley’s turn to groan.

Chapter 4

Notes:

I did this chapter on my phone so please point out and typos I may have missed so I can go in and fix them!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Crowley fumbled about in the kitchen, trying to remember exactly how much mix Aziraphale liked in his cocoa. He finally just guessed, made the drink, and returned to the living room.

"Here," he said, offering the mug to his angel, who was sitting in his armchair reading.

"Thank you dear," he replied, not looking up from his book.

Crowley stood there for a moment, fidgeting. "You can't still be mad at me," he finally said.

Aziraphale turned a page. "You broke my mug," he said before taking a sip of the cocoa. He hummed. "You're getting better at mixing it."

Crowley made a frustrated noise. "I've made fifty-two cups of cocoa in fourteen days! I bloody well BETTER be improving!"

Aziraphale glanced up for a moment, but pointedly went back to reading. Crowley sank to his knees and dropped his forehead onto the arm of the chair. "What do I have to do? I fixed your mug."

Another page turned. "It's not about the mug."

"Then WHAT?"

Aziraphale sighed, and when Crowley looked up here saw the angel had finally turned his attention to him. "You promised you wouldn't break anything, then the first thing you did was shatter my mug and get cocoa all over my carpet."

Crowley winced. "But I fixed it," he whined.

Aziraphale went back to reading.

Crowley say there, staring up at his friend. "Angel," he pleaded. Aziraphale looked at him again. "Forgive me? Please?" The words burned in his throat, but the demon forced them out. It was the only thing he could think of.

Aziraphale eyes widened a fraction before his face softened. He set the book aside and reached out to gently caress Crowley's cheek. "Oh, my dear," he murmured, "you are forgiven. I will always forgive you."

Crowley sighed, and they sat in comfortable silence for a while before the door to the shop opened.

"...flew all the way here," a man was saying. "I mean, Ed and Harry? Come on."

"They may be idiots, but at least they know what's out there," another man responded. "Plus, they hate us. I don't think they would have called if it wasn't something weird."

Crowley and Aziraphale both went stuff, staring at each other. They were American, and hadn't Ed and Harry been the names of those Ghostfacer peoe they'd had in two weeks ago?

"I still think it's a waste of time," the first voice grumped.

"You just don't like having to take a taxi everywhere," the second shot back. "The Impala will be fine without us."

"Stay here," Aziraphale whispered as he stood and went to greet the men. For once Crowley didn't argue; merely waited behind the door so he could hear and maybe peek through the crack to see what was happening.

"Hello!" Aziraphale said brightly - much friendlier than usual towards people who might buy his books.

"I'm, hi," the second voice replied. "Are you, um, Mr. A. Z. Fell?"

Despite everything, Crowley snickered quietly about his angel's name. He'd given him grief about not coming up with something for his "J" and yet he hadn't even thought of a proper human alias.

"Yes, yes, that is me. Could you please not touch that?" The second part was clearly directed at someone else, and the first man mumbled an apology.

"Great," the less grumpy of the two continued. "I'm Sam and this is my brother, Dean. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"

Notes:

Hey guys, thanks so much for reading! I really appreciate all your support on this! I do have an idea for a second story that's a little more plot-oriented, so let me know if that's something you'd like me to write!

If you liked this, please check out my other two Good Omens fics, Ashes of Eden and No Rest for Fallen Angels.

Thanks all!

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