One-Shots - Good Omens | Ineffable Husbands

90mph in Central London

TW: Hospitals, injuries etc 

Aziraphale hummed to himself as he flipped the sign on his door from 'open' to 'closed', ending another successful day at the bookshop. Of course, though, success was relative. To a regular human being a 'successful day' would include things like a big profit, no rude customers and maybe even selling out of whatever it is they sold. To Aziraphale, a 'successful day' meant that he had managed to go the whole day without selling a single book. That might seem a little backwards, but Aziraphale only owned a bookshop as a place to store all of his books. He never planned on selling them.

His phone began to ring. Aziraphale crossed over to his desk and plucked the phone off of its stand.

"Hello?" He answered.

"Uhm, hi there. I need to speak with a man named A.Z Fell?" The young voice seemed to ask a question instead of making a request.

"This is him," Aziraphale chimed back.

"Right yes. My name is Rudy and I'm calling from St. Bartholomew's Hospital in London. The purpose of my call is because you were listed as an emergency contact for a patient recently admitted. A uh... A... An Anthony Crowley?"

Aziraphale's stomach dropped. "What? What happened? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah! Everything is fine. He was pulled from a car wreck about an hour ago-"

"A car wreck?!" Aziraphale shouted into the phone.

"I uh, yes sir. He wasn't injured too badly but he is currently unconscious so the doctors need you to come in and answer some questions because we don't have any patient files about him. It's probably just a mistake but according to our records, he's never been to hospital before this incident. The only document we have from him had minimal information. It only states his name and that if something were to happen to him we need to call you," Rudy's voice was shaking. He sounded young, so he was probably new to the hospital scene. He most likely hadn't had to make many of these sorts of phone calls before.

"Yes, yes, of course. I'll be there," Aziraphale said as he slammed the phone down.

Aziraphale could practically hear his heart pounding as he snatched his coat from the hanged and dashed out the door.

"Taxi!" Aziraphale yelled, waving his hand high above his head.

It didn't take long for a small black vehicle to pull up alongside Aziraphale. He climbed into the back of the cab, slamming the door behind him.

"St. Barts Hospital, please," Aziraphale said, desperately.

"You got it," The driver said as she pulled into the road.

As they sped through town, all of the traffic lights were green. How lucky. The first part of the drive was silent, thankfully. Aziraphale didn't have the mental capacity to hold a conversation at the moment. He could only think about Crowley. The boy on the phone said he was unconscious! Not to mention how Crowley hadn't filled out any hospital forms. Aziraphale had made both of them fill out forms in case of an emergency but of course, Crowley hadn't taken things seriously. He never did! He thought he was oh-so-invincible.

"Who is it?" The driver asked.

Aziraphale snapped out of his trance. "Sorry?"

"If you don't mind me asking, of course. You seem to be worried. Who's at Barts?" The driver looked into the mirror as if she was looking at Aziraphale.

"My best friend," Aziraphale said, smiling at the thought of Crowley.

"Oh yikes... sorry to hear. How long have you been friends?" She asked.