GO: Like Directions (War/Famine)
For mylittlepwny, who requested a Good Omens ficlet with War/Famine.
Title: Like Directions
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Good Omens
Pairing: War/Famine
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: I sometimes think the sidewalk will swallow me up.
Notes: No spoilers
There are many, many things that War could not abide. (She didn't hate. Hate was personal, and War was anything but.) Peace was the worst of them, of course, but she also disliked lavender bouquets, cut-rate chocolate, and Bon Jovi.
She also disliked Christmas, mostly because it was an amalgamation of everything else she disliked, all rolled into one big season of disgusting, soppy non-violence.
Not only was it insulting, she also found it quite boring.
So when the evening of twenty-fourth of December rolled around, she found herself opening her phone book and dialing somebody she knew would be just as miserable as she was. Within the hour, she was reclining in a luxurious private jet, flying direct from Cairo to New York.
They touched down in the early hours of some morning or another, and Famine was waiting for her on the tarmac.
"It's a miserable holiday," he said, offering her his arm.
She slid her hand through the loop of his elbow. "The boy must be giddy, though."
"Positively." Famine tilted his head. "They can feel proud of their recycling bins all they want, but they never remember to use them."
"And you?" she asked, easing into the waiting limousine.
"Eh," he responded. "The generosity overflows, but things pick up for me after New Year's."
She laid her head back, enjoyed the sharp thrill of the engine's initial growl. "I wish, sometimes, I could get properly drunk."
"Have you ever tried?" His palm pressed against her knee, skin cool.
She smiled.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Denise Duhamel's Fear on 11th Street and Avenue A, New York City. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.
Title: Like Directions
Author: voleuse
Fandom: Good Omens
Pairing: War/Famine
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: I sometimes think the sidewalk will swallow me up.
Notes: No spoilers
There are many, many things that War could not abide. (She didn't hate. Hate was personal, and War was anything but.) Peace was the worst of them, of course, but she also disliked lavender bouquets, cut-rate chocolate, and Bon Jovi.
She also disliked Christmas, mostly because it was an amalgamation of everything else she disliked, all rolled into one big season of disgusting, soppy non-violence.
Not only was it insulting, she also found it quite boring.
So when the evening of twenty-fourth of December rolled around, she found herself opening her phone book and dialing somebody she knew would be just as miserable as she was. Within the hour, she was reclining in a luxurious private jet, flying direct from Cairo to New York.
They touched down in the early hours of some morning or another, and Famine was waiting for her on the tarmac.
"It's a miserable holiday," he said, offering her his arm.
She slid her hand through the loop of his elbow. "The boy must be giddy, though."
"Positively." Famine tilted his head. "They can feel proud of their recycling bins all they want, but they never remember to use them."
"And you?" she asked, easing into the waiting limousine.
"Eh," he responded. "The generosity overflows, but things pick up for me after New Year's."
She laid her head back, enjoyed the sharp thrill of the engine's initial growl. "I wish, sometimes, I could get properly drunk."
"Have you ever tried?" His palm pressed against her knee, skin cool.
She smiled.
###
A/N: Title and summary adapted from Denise Duhamel's Fear on 11th Street and Avenue A, New York City. Link courtesy of breathe_poetry.