The Boy with the Books

Chapter Five

There he sat, dragging his pen across his notebook without ever stopping even to glance at the angel and demon that sat not too far from him. Aziraphale stood up and took a seat across from the boy. Crowley followed.

"How's it coming along?"

"Fine."

"Have you come to any groundbreaking conclusions?" asked Crowley.

"Yes, I have."

"And what are they?" Aziraphale inquired anxiously.

"If angels and demons are real, then God must be real, too."

"What makes you think any of that is real?"

"You two ought to stop yelling at each other so loudly when you think no one is listening." He looked up from his work for the first time. "There's always someone listening."

Crowley and Aziraphale shared a worried look. It's not everyday that somebody finds out you're a supernatural entity in disguise. It took one glance for Crowley to know that Aziraphale was having an absolute panic attack.

"You know, no one will believe you. They'll call you crazy and put you in a madhouse." He said calmly.

"They will not."

"Oh, of course they will, boy. It's what they do. Everyone's stupid, lad. They'll beat you up and do that thing where they stick your head in a toilet."

"Waterboarding?" asked Aziraphale.

"Swirlies." The young boy corrected.

"Right. Is that what you want your legacy to be? Oh, yeah, I went to school with him. That bloke who believed in angels and demons and got swirlies every other day." Crowley threatened, "do you want to be that bloke?" Now the worry in the boy's eyes was clear, and Aziraphale saw an opportunity.

"Why don't you write a novel?"

"A novel?" cried the boy and the demon in unison.

"Yes, a novel. A science-fiction novel. Or a fantasy novel. That way it doesn't matter whether people believe you are not, but you'll put the idea in their heads. People hate being told what to think. They'd much rather believe they came up with the idea themselves." Crowley struggled to hold back his smile as he listened to his friend's pitch. What a smart fellow he was.

"Well," the boy began to think it over, "that wouldn't be a bad idea."

"And you'll make much more money out of a proper book than simply writing for the school paper. It's absolutely brilliant." Said Crowley, backing up his friend, "It might take you a long time, though. Maybe you should do it with a friend."

"Well, it's not a bad idea, is it." The duo had clearly won him over, "a book about an angel and demon being friends. I must write that, before someone else does. I'm sorry, I must leave you two. I must get started right away." And with that, the article was torn out of the notebook, crumpled up and thrown into the nearest trashcan. "Hey," the boy called before disappearing around the corner, "thank you."

Aziraphale and Crowley couldn't help but beam at the boy and mouth a sincere you're welcome.

***

"That was very smart of you, angel." Crowley praised Aziraphale nearly all the way back to the Bentley.

"Thank you, thank you," he blushed in return, "I couldn't have done it without you, Crowley."

"Yes, you could."

"No, really, I- "

"You can do anything, angel." He said in his most sober tone, "it just so happens you enjoy my company and I make everything better." There was the Crowley Aziraphale knew.

"Well, since I can do anything, I might as well make us look normal again."

"Too bad, I was kind of getting used to looking this good."

"Oh, Crowley. Don't be nonsensical. You always look good."

"I could say the same thing about you, angel." Crowley smiled like a lovestruck schoolgirl as he rested his head on the roof of the car across from Aziraphale, who was blushing like a ripe tomato. He snapped his fingers and the sixteen year old boys were gone. The black hair turned ginger and the chubby cheeks disappeared.

"Lift home, angel?"

THE END