Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. A. N. Happy Easter to everyone who celebrates. If you don't, hope you have an excuse for chocolate anyway. ;D

Before he could figure out how to get invited inside, hopefully (nature is lovely, but there's definitely a greater range of possibilities with some furniture to play on), Juliet sniffed loudly and barked once, clearly excited.

"What?" Sam asked, demon knife already in hand. Not that it could kill Crowley, but he was still just a little disappointed. As if his girl couldn't take care of anything silly enough to come sniffing in this specific neck of the woods.

"Bloody good question," he groused. Who dared to interrupt such a lovely afternoon?

"I beg your pardon, Your Majesty." Guthrie stepped around the last curve of the path they'd followed.

"I was convinced Hell could stand my absence for five fucking seconds! It's not crumbling yet, is it?" Crowley growled.

"Crumbling, no. Concerned, yes." Guthrie bowed. "Obviously, there was no need to be." He stared at Sam, who reciprocated with an earnest glare.

"Seriously, why are you here?" Crowley huffed.

"After your sudden disappearance, some...enterprising subjects decided to try and track your cellphone. The results - or, lack of satisfying ones to be precise - made them wonder if there might be trouble. I persuaded them to let me check before they tried to earn your gratitude by launching a rescue mission."

Sam scoffed. Frankly, Crowley felt the same. If he was in Winchester trouble, a couple of nosy lowlifes would be the opposite of help.

"Sorry darling, gotta go. Apparently I need to teach some people that *I* am not on a leash. Come on, Juliet, you're going to have a few extra snacks now."

One perfect day ruined. Oh well. Sure, Crowley preferred to be inventive, especially about torture. But sometimes you saw why the classics had turned into clichés. Sam wasn't here to see, nor would he ever know the details. So there was no chance he'd be disgusted.

Besides, he was doing what he had to, really. Teaching patience and, more importantly, submission to his subjects at large. It was the only way they'd learn anything.

In the first bout of annoyance, he hadn't considered that this could have one very interesting positive effect. Not that it would have been enough to make him forgive whoever thought he needed constant supervision. What did they take him for? A fucking kindergartener? There wasn't even a kindergarten back when he was alive. And even at three, he'd been smarter than the idiots that chance had put beneath him.

One day later, Sam texted him. - I have a question.

He replied immediately. -Ask away.

Moose wasn't usually shy. Crowley admitted he was curious about what would make him hesitant.

-Did you make a public announcement? Or, you know, give an explanation, or - anything along these lines?

-Is there something I should have announced? Or that you wanted me to?

-Don't fuck around, Crowley. If they know, I need to know. Demons don't know how to shut up. The last thing I need is one of them spouting anything about us before I can stab it.

-Not even considering exorcism anymore, huh? They grow up so fast.

He'd been sorely tempted to add a smiley face, but in the end decided against it.

- Just answer.

-Or?

-If I can't do damage control one way, I'll have to find another. And who knows what sort of fibs I might come up with on the spur of the moment. Do you really want to test that?

- I almost do, actually. It might be very entertaining. But fine, you're free to assume whatever you want and take whichever steps you prefer.

Of course he didn't offer an explanation to anyone. What was he doing, with whom was he doing it, why had he chosen to do so? He didn't need to answer to anyone. It was the bloody point.

But he hadn't even strictly lied, had he? If Moose's own lack of understanding of hell politics led him to assume that their relationship was public... The sensible thing would be to take the revelation into his own hands. Which meant that they wouldn't have to wait for Dean to leave before seeing each other in the future. Crowley trusted Sam's ability to be very persuasive, if need be.

-If you want, I'm all for coming back. Right now, even. Help you plan, or break the news, or both. Presuming you do want to break the news?

- Want? No.

There was no need of smileys. Crowley could feel a humongous bitchface anyway.

-But it's going to be less annoying than some two-bit demon dropping the bomb on Dean. Also, helping me break the news? Usually we share a bed at least once before my partners get themselves killed.

-You overestimate your brother. He'll need at least some preparation to take me down, we could all have a nice chat and he wouldn't be able to do a thing I didn't allow. I am, however, intrigued by your plans. I'd like to earn the killable status...just to prove you wrong.

- Of course you do. Let me handle this, and if everything goes well, and you don't cause me trouble, I'll take that scenario into consideration.

-Fine.

If he'd accidentally (or not so much) let slip in Sam's pocket one of his magical bug devices...well, since they'd been interrupted, he'd wanted to know if Moose'd get all huffy. Or, maybe, decide for a new...occupation instead of going back to his boring task.

Since he wasn't going to be allowed in to The Talk, it turned out to be an extra wise choice. Knowing Squirrel's reaction - and exactly which arguments would win him over - could prove important for future interactions.

He needed to get his R&D department working on one that would have video too, irrespectively of where it was placed. It shouldn't be that complicated. Hell, he could imagine at least three spells that would have helped, even if none was exactly right to stick on an object. But with some fiddling, it shouldn't be too hard.

What did he even keep that department for otherwise? ...Okay, Sam would probably be pissed off at what might be perceived as controlling behaviour, but he just wanted to know, not steer him. Besides, what Moose didn't know wouldn't hurt him, now would it?

Shortly after, Crowley retired to his room. He didn't want to miss a word of this, distracted by one idiot or another, and time differences between upstairs and here had to be taken into account. His subjects, by now, knew better than to ask about his disappearance. He'd made bloody sure of it...and no, that wasn't just a choice of swearword dictated by his heritage.

"Ok, spit it out." That was Dean, delicate as ever. "What did you do?"

"Nothing that warrants that tone," Sam defended himself, and Crowley would have bet his crown that there was a bitchface to accompany it.

"I know you, Sammy. This is your 'I fucked up' look." Of course Crowley wasn't the only one to have mental folders of Sam's expressions. Squirrel's were probably more extensive than his. Now, if only he could pick his brain sometimes... but that was an idea for another day.

"No, it's my 'Dean will lose it' look. There's a difference."

"To-ma-to, to-mah-to," Dean retorted.

"Just because you don't like something, it doesn't automatically become wrong," Moose huffed.

"And you're stalling. It's not apocalyptic this time...Is it?"

"Fuck you, Dean. If it was apocalyptic I wouldn't try to defend it," Moose snapped. Crowley was, frankly, a little shocked. He'd manoeuvered Sam into admitting their relationship. He'd thought he'd be more appeasing towards his brother, though...at least at the start.

"Ok, yeah." If anything, Squirrel sounded conciliatory now. Miracles happened. "What is it, then?"

"I've been going out with someone, lately. When you weren't there." Softer. What Crowley wouldn't have given to see his face right now.

"And you thought I wouldn't be thrilled because?" There was concern in that voice. Maybe even a touch of fear.

"It's Crowley." Basically a sigh.

"What the fuck, Sam!" Dean shouted. "At this point... Never mind every other issue, it's your taste I'm questioning! Crowley? Seriously?"

Ouch. That hurt. Before he could get angry and start planning Squirrel's demise (which would undoubtedly put a serious spanner in his relationship with Moose), he heard Sam snort.

"Rich, given that your taste is 'warm, willing body', and nothing more," Moose scoffed. "Besides, I'm not going out with him because he's pretty."

"Oh, you aren't. Good to know. I'll have to lock you up, won't I?"

This time, the sigh coming through was the weariest thing Crowley had ever heard. "No, and - I mean, you could, but it won't matter. I've not asked him for blood, and for what's worth, he hasn't offered."

"Let's say I believe this - and I'm not sure I do, might take you up on that...why the fuck are you spending time with Crowley then? Not a deal, was it?"

"You'd have noticed if you 'd died, Dean." Moose chuckled. Of course he couldn't even imagine another reason to sign one.

"Anyway, we're visiting museums, if you must know. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Suspicion still dripped thick from Squirrel's voice.

"We did go to the opera, once." Moose wasn't crowing about their little Ripper escapade. In his shoes, his brother would have, Crowley was sure. Then again, maybe it was best for everyone's sanity not to share, "He could have stranded me over a century ago because I let him drive." Even if the fact that he hadn't should count for something, shouldn't it?

"You're kidding me."

"I'll tell you the exact date, you can pull the video feeds in the area. It's not like either of us is invisible," Moose retorted.

"Ok, yeah, it'd be a stupid lie to tell. But why?"

"Because sometimes I enjoy something a little more refined, and it turns out I don't have to be alone."

"Ok, but - dating sites are a thing. There must be some girl out there who likes museums and all that. It's not an excuse to pick Crowley of all people."

"First of all, you can't trust what you see on dating sites, Dean. Second, great idea. I'll just find some smart, nice woman who doesn't have any idea about...anything. Because that always worked so fucking well for me."

Crowley winced at the simmering rage in Moose's voice, he hoped - for Squirrel's sake - that he'd immediately start grovelling. If the look matched the tone - and he didn't doubt it - Dean was lucky that his brother's powers had fizzled out long ago. Not that Sam would actually attack him, but...accidents happened.

"Sorry." So Squirrel had as much sense as his namesake, at least. "Huh, there's always..."

"Don't even try to go there. Just don't."

"You don't know what I was going to say!" Dean protested.

Crowley rolled his eyes. Even he knew what the man was about to suggest, and he didn't spend most of his life with him. If naive girls were a no, well, some girls out there were perfectly aware - and very much willing. Statistically speaking, at least a few would have enjoyed museums.

"No fangirls. You want to know why Crowley? I'll tell you why. He doesn't push."

"What does that even mean?" Dean sounded annoyed. Crowley smiled to himself. He'd always known that it was the right attitude.

"It means that, unlike a lot of people in my life, he knows how to take a no. So I have stopped worrying that I shouldn't say yes."

"You do know it's a trap. It has to be." Well, he was the one who'd told Squirrel not to trust anyone. He shouldn't take it personally if the boy was suspicious.

"Nothing's happened yet. And if something does, I know what to do."

"Let's hear your brilliant plan." Squirrel was bitchfacing, too. Crowley would bet a lot on it.

"Not really a plan, per se. I'll just do whatever needs to be done. As always."

"Oh, so you're going to kill him?" Dean didn't sound like he trusted his brother to go through with that. And Crowley, if he'd been there, would have agreed with him... Moose wouldn't have been capable - at first.

But Crowley only questioned Sam's knowledge of how to take him down. He had no doubt that, if he did spring the wrong kind of trap on the boy, that lacuna would eventually be remedied. If Dean was suspicious of his brother's willingness - no, even eagerness - to erase him, should he prove enough of a disappointment... Well, that was sort of flattering. Crowley wished he could have that much confidence in them. Oh well. Maybe someday...but that was probably a pipe dream. If he was going to keep Moose, he should have been careful of his moves.

"If and when it becomes necessary. Sure." There was his confirmation. There wasn't a shred of hesitation in Sam's tone. "But until it is, I'll keep seeing him. Well, I'll have to see him to kill him anyway, but you know what I mean."

"Yeah. Museums." Dean was very much still unamused, but tiredness was winning in his tone.

"Mostly. Can I assume you don't want the details?" As if there were details enough to spook - or interest, actually - anyone yet. It seemed that Crowley wasn't the only one who liked to leave someone to his own uncomfortable assumptions.

That was definitely a gagging sound.

"Well then, the matter's closed."

And the next noise - that had to be typing.

Squirrel didn't protest against being ignored.

Crowley admitted it to himself - Sam would have made a lovely king, with that attitude. Settle the question, don't even consider more might be asked.

Even he would get bored here, though. Eventually. And Crowley didn't hate the boy enough to try and hand over his crown.