3: The Shipper's Guide to the Pseudo-Apocalypse: Good Omens/Gen2 crackfic
By rhombal, for blindmadness. Dili says: I don't know what struck me to write this, but it just happened, and even though it's slightly different from what I usually write, I hope you like it. I definitely thank dizmo and katronette for bearing with my late-night insanity, and especially the former for digging up old fic so I could write most of the epilogue based off of that. ♥
The Shipper's Guide to the Pseudo-Apocalypse
I.
The house was nestled between two groves of trees, hidden from the direct view of passing traffic (not that anyone normal would have been able to see it anyway, but that's not the point). Birch leaves lightly shaded it in the summer and the bare trees provided a barrier against the harsh winter winds. It was the perfect house, the proper size and decorated tastefully, it was in the perfect location, but the people1 currently residing in it were anything but pleased.
"I don't see why we have to wait here," Famine announced testily, leaning against a countertop with a mug of coffee. "I'd rather be actively doing my job than sending messages to people who do my job for me while I'm being told to stay put in a house in the middle of nowhere for weeks on end."
THERE ARE LEGITIMATE REASONS FOR THIS.
"Of course, of course. The Ineffable Plan. It's all bound to work out in the end, so I should just sit tight and wait for it to make sense at some point, right? Unfortunately, some point isn't soon enough, because being trapped here is just-- I mean--" Famine made a futile gesture with his hand, attempting to get his point across, but he only succeeded in almost spilling his coffee.
YOU MEAN, BEING TRAPPED HERE WITH HIM 'IS JUST--'. The gesture was imitated. 2
Unfortunately for him, nearly spilling the coffee wasn't enough for Famine. He also had to choke on it.
"What?" He barely spluttered out. There wasn't a response, not that Famine expected one to his articulate outburst, but if hooded cowls could smirk, DEATH was doing exactly that. Luckily for Famine and his articulacy, a knock sounded on the front door at this point and it was a rare enough occurance that both of the Horsemen were sufficiently distracted by it. After all, the combined supernatural presence of four Horsepeople was usually enough to keep away most unwanted visitors. 3
When Famine answered the door, a young and rather cheery-looking girl handed him bunch of balloons (black-colored, if it must be noted) and grinned brightly at him. "Hi! Singing telegram for a Mister Raven Sable?"
Famine ellipsed.
The girl took this as a sign to go ahead with the message and launched into a rather fast-paced song with an unnerving amount of enthusiasm.
"Last time you were defeated by a preadolescent boy
Who banished you with scales not unlike a toy
The Apocalypse, the Apocalypse! It's happening again
If you listen closer, I'll say why, where, and when
Last time the Antichrist hadn't made up his mind
His indecisiveness had everyone in such a bind
The Apocalypse, the Apocalypse! It's happening today
In a few minutes, grab your cycle and be on your way
You've been kept in this house by forces unknown
But the reason for this boredom will soon be shown
The Apocalypse, the Apocalypse! It's happening in town
Outside a coffee house on the streets of 40th and Down
You've also been thinking about a certain someone--"
Famine suppressed a motion that probably would have been quite properly deemed a 'flail' by some, also suppressing the urge to slam the front door in the young girl's face. "That's -- I think I've heard enough. Thank you," he added weakly.
"No problem, sir," she chirped brightly. "Have a wonderful day!"
"I will if it actually turns out as planned this time," Famine muttered to himself, turning away from the door to look for his motorcycle keys.
1Relatively speaking.
2Although, it was rather unique in its own way, since not many gestures are able to recreate the noise of a few hundred bats in flight.
3Except for telemarketers and insurance salesmen; they are in a class of their own.
II.
At the intersection of 40th Street and Down, there was a coffee house.
There wasn't exactly anything particularly special about this coffee house that separated it from all the others in town, but it did have a good atmosphere and excellent service, as well as a miniature library of a constantly changing selections of books for people to read while there, though many used them as props to attract the attention of other people rather than for actual reading purposes. It was a moderately prosperous coffee house and it usually had a decent number of customers.
Tori Hades idly flipped through a heavily dog-eared romance novel, not even looking to see what sort of book she was holding in her hand. She only had it in her hands to keep them occupied. "I don't know what to do about him. It was a challenge at first, and I admit it was frustrating, but that didn't really matter to me. I mean, there were times when it was really worth it, but now -- all the progress I thought I made suddenly vanished, leaving only the frustration. I can't handle it."
"Do you want me to beat him up for you?" Ky grinned, then gave her a sheepish sort of look as she glared at him. "I'm sorry, Tori, there's really not much else I can offer to do for you. I could hit on him, possibly, but I think Tona has that covered already."
"Please don't. It's just--" Tori ran a hand through her hair, realizing how awkward the next statement was going to sound.1 "Do you realize how long I've gone without sex?"
"Poor thing." Ky said sympathetically. "You know, if you weren't family..."
This phrase had begun in jest, but Ky then realized that she technically wasn't closely related family (though she was closely related enough to be almost as good-looking as him). The two of them eyed each other uneasily for a brief moment -- and luckily2, at this moment, a commotion arose from outside.
The two of them half rose in their seats to see what all the excitement was about, but were saved the trouble by Tristan bursting through the doors of the coffee house.
"The sky's orange," he said excitedly, frantically pointing in the direction of the doors.3
1Usually this topic of conversation is absolutely mortifying for either both or one of the parties involved. Since they were them, it was only briefly awkward.
2Either for their sanity, or Maja's sanity, or both.
3And luckily for the wordcount of this fic, he was too out of breath to say anything else.
III.
The four of them rode beneath the orange sky, enjoying the moment.
The breeze rippling their hair and clothes, the strange-coloured sky, the roar of the motorcycles, the distant clash of traffic and angered yells, the smell of smoke and acrid oil; this was how it was meant to be.
War pulled alongside Famine, red hair whipping violently in her face, and gave him the slightest hint of a sharp grin. "You look gloomy," she shouted over the sound of their motorcycles.
"It's because of all this black," was his dry response.
"If you say so," the grin widened into an infuriating sort of smirk. "Though if you need cheering up, darling, I'm very willing to volunteer my services."
"I'll keep that in mind."
To an outsider, it would have seemed like a curt and sullen response, but he gave her an appreciative glance as he said it. They had a history together, literally, and while that should have made their coworker status awkward, it was War, which meant that everything was both casual and loaded with significance at the same time. Besides, almost everything with War was awkward, or at least, potentially dangerous.1
What Famine didn't notice was the slightly distressed look on Pollution's face following this exchange.
The sky darkened almost imperceptibly.
1It was also the last day of the world as they knew it, so why not have it go out with a bang? Literally.2
2Sorry.
IV.
"Bright, bright orange," Tristan continued after a deep breath. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like it. I was also listening to the news and there's also been a report of shooting stars in broad daylight, the really visible and bright kind, which is even stranger, and I don't know what to do about it, so I just decided to let everyone know in case something important was happening."
Either Ky or Tori was planning on responding (or at least planning on attempting the best possible response to something spoken by Tristan), but that didn't matter since at that exact moment, the door of the coffee house burst open again. Two men walked in, and with that simple event, the level of tension in the place multiplied.
"Bertie," Ky muttered under his breath.
"And Anaximander," Tristan added, growing a little paler. "I wonder what they're doing here, because whatever it is, it can't be anything good, unless they were planning on drinking some coffee before going back out and throwing themselves in the path of a fast-moving vehicle -- except I didn't really say that and I don't think it's going to happen, but--" He snapped his mouth shut as the two aforementioned men approached them, stopping only a few feet away.
The five of them were frozen in this way for a moment, poised on the brink of something.
Ky had his fists clenched and his jaw set, readying himself for anything. Tristan's eyes were wide, blue, and unassuming, but now he knew what certain people were capable of, and he also eyed the pair warily, not planning on making the same mistake twice. And Tori simply looked undecided, her hand paused halfway between holding Ky back and being a comforting presence on Tristan's shoulder.
Opposite them, Bertie slung a casual arm around Anaximander's shoulders. "Hello," was all he said, letting his reputation speak volumes more and cause more fear and uneasiness than his actual spoken words.
To everyone involved or watching, whether with interest or idly from the other side of the room, this scene had a hint of familiarity to it, a sense of déjà vu. It certainly had not happened before in the traditional sense; not even with half of the current cast of people present and the rest altered, not even a similar scene in the same location.
However, history does have a habit of repeating itself. Events play and replay themselves in ever-widening and shrinking circles, in different venues, clashing between eras and generations. Whether divine or mortal, male or female, evil or good or neutral, everything is based on and derives from one thing -- emotion.
At this moment, a demon arrived outside the coffee house; not just any demon, but the Lord of Hell.
At this moment, an angel also arrived outside the coffee house; not just any angel, but the Archangel Gabriel.
Also at this moment, a coincidence began to occur.
V. and VI.
Lucifer glanced at Gabriel.
Ky glared at Bertie.
A fifth motorcycle pulled up to the front of the coffee house.
"What," War was the first to speak, and with evident distaste, "are you doing here, Lucifer? Shouldn't you be happy that your son is finally doing what he's being told and be occupied with preparing for battle? After all, battle is what we're ultimately aiming for, isn't it?" She smiled thinly, but Lucifer merely (and surprisingly) laughed and shook his head.
"What are you doing here?" Ky asked with obvious distaste, glaring at both Bertie and Anaximander. Tristan idly and panickedly thought that perhaps they were doomed, because while they were not outnumbered, they were overpowered. Bertie took a step closer. The door of the coffee house opened once again.
"This isn't my son's fault. I'm not even prepared yet, and I was actually going to try to stop it," Lucifer said, still chuckling a little. "This is all his fault." He angled a head towards Famine.
Although they were in a coffee house crowded with people, even Tori was beginning to worry. It was at this moment that someone spoke up from behind Anaximander. "I'd appreciate it if you left my girlfriend alone."
Everyone turned towards Famine, who was absolutely no help as he looked just as confused as they did. Lucifer smirked. "The strange weather, the 'signs' of an Apocalypse? What do you think happens when an Apocalyptic Personification falls into unrequited love? Or, perhaps I should say, two Apocalyptic Personifications."
Tori blinked and possibly even gaped.
Famine spluttered and turned three different shades of red in two seconds1.
"Ryan?" Tori asked incredulously, but the Pendergast was too busy glaring at Anaximander and Bertie, who decided that now it was an even match, and besides, it was too risky for them to do anything in a coffee house full of people. "Was I imagining things, or did you actually just stand up for me?"
Pollution gave Famine an incredulous look, but for the first time, Famine noticed that it was also vaguely hopeful. This gave him the courage to say what he wanted to say, along with Lucifer's words; after all, if Lucifer wasn't telling the truth, the world was going to end that day anyway. "I-- I actually have to confess something, Pollution. I really like you, maybe even love you, and I always have."
Ryan could have said something sarcastic; it was on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he only gave Tori a serious look. "I couldn't stand to see you threatened." By this time, Bertie and Anaximander had slunk away to make other plans2, so his attention was completely on Tori now, and while not precisely smiling, his facial expression was genuine.
Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Finally."
Ky gave Tori a thumbs-up behind Ryan's back.
Gabriel looked confused. "I have no idea what I'm doing here. I guess God really does work in mysterious ways."
Tristan looked both relieved and bewildered and wondered if Ryan was acting strange because of the orange-colored sky, but was distracted by coffee before he could voice his opinion.
"No, Gabrielala, it's because I was here and you simply can't resist me," Lucifer smirked broadly and said one last thing before he vanished to where he had come from, his work complete. "I always knew you had a thing for fascist dictators."
While nobody was watching, Tristan ordered a cup of coffee, helped by a very enthusiastic and well-meaning young man who worked there.
Pollution blushed a little, attempting to hide behind his hair. What he said in response was quiet, but firm. "I love you too, Famine." Famine jerked his head up hopefully, having been staring at the ground for the past few seconds, which seemed more like minutes, waiting for a response. He tentatively laid a hand on Pollution's arm.
Tori gave Ryan a slightly hopeful and wary look, as if this was all made in sarcastic response and would vanish the minute she questioned it; she couldn't handle it if that happened, not now. She took a cautious step closer.
They kissed.
Although one of the kisses was a first kiss and the other one was certainly not a first kiss3, they were both the same in that they were passionate, fierce, and full of emotion. After a long while, both couples broke apart, rather breathless.
"What I don't understand," Famine said, still smiling faintly at Pollution, "is who sent that telegram. I think it might have been Lucifer."
Ryan still had his arms wrapped around Tori, but he frowned deeper. "So who sent the text about clowns attacking?"
Gabriel coughed lightly and decided that it was about time he left.
Tori stifled a giggle and glanced at Ky, who looked innocent. Meanwhile, Tristan choked on his coffee4 and attempted to look even more innocent.
The sky lightened imperceptibly. The orange began to fade. The point of the entire sequence events (and luckily, it was made and taken) was that sometimes there is an inexorable pull between two people, no matter how incompatible or compatible they may seem. Sometimes denying this pull causes a pseudo-Apocalypse, sometimes denying it only causes some sexual tension or a strange coincident which leads to bad luck.
The only thing that matters is that in the end, some pairings are ineffable.
1This beat his original record of two, which happened when War (on one of her PMS streaks) suggested that they attend the Rocky Horror Picture Show. In drag. She also handed Famine a corset.
2The plans may or may not have involved a large box.
3Though they had been spaced out far enough for it to feel like that.
4It was an epidemic.
Epilogue
As he happily watched Ryan and Tori sit together, Ryan's arm around Tori, Tristan suddenly noticed that there was something a little off about his coffee. It still tasted similar to what he usually had, but there was clearly something wrong with it, which was an utter tragedy, and being almost sickeningly nice wasn't going to stop him from getting to the bottom of the situation.
The young man who was the main worker at the coffee house had just served a group of four adults (two who, for some reason, reminded Tristan of Ryan and Tori although they didn't act or look the same in the slightest) when he was waved down by Tristan.
To make a long story short1, after some prolonged rambling about why he liked coffee and coffee houses, including some beaming over his first date that, you know, took place at a coffee house, partially, Tristan manage to fluster the young man into saying the worst words that ever existed in the entire world.
"It's decaf."
While Tristan resisted the rather unlike him urge to throw the coffee in this young man's face, one of the men at the other table overheard, choked on his own coffee2 and proclaimed some very strange words, considering he didn't even know if his coffee was tampered with, though he probably had suspected it.
"Not again."
1Too late.
2You would think that if he didn't know how to eat properly, he would at least drink properly.
End.
The Shipper's Guide to the Pseudo-Apocalypse
I.
The house was nestled between two groves of trees, hidden from the direct view of passing traffic (not that anyone normal would have been able to see it anyway, but that's not the point). Birch leaves lightly shaded it in the summer and the bare trees provided a barrier against the harsh winter winds. It was the perfect house, the proper size and decorated tastefully, it was in the perfect location, but the people1 currently residing in it were anything but pleased.
"I don't see why we have to wait here," Famine announced testily, leaning against a countertop with a mug of coffee. "I'd rather be actively doing my job than sending messages to people who do my job for me while I'm being told to stay put in a house in the middle of nowhere for weeks on end."
THERE ARE LEGITIMATE REASONS FOR THIS.
"Of course, of course. The Ineffable Plan. It's all bound to work out in the end, so I should just sit tight and wait for it to make sense at some point, right? Unfortunately, some point isn't soon enough, because being trapped here is just-- I mean--" Famine made a futile gesture with his hand, attempting to get his point across, but he only succeeded in almost spilling his coffee.
YOU MEAN, BEING TRAPPED HERE WITH HIM 'IS JUST--'. The gesture was imitated. 2
Unfortunately for him, nearly spilling the coffee wasn't enough for Famine. He also had to choke on it.
"What?" He barely spluttered out. There wasn't a response, not that Famine expected one to his articulate outburst, but if hooded cowls could smirk, DEATH was doing exactly that. Luckily for Famine and his articulacy, a knock sounded on the front door at this point and it was a rare enough occurance that both of the Horsemen were sufficiently distracted by it. After all, the combined supernatural presence of four Horsepeople was usually enough to keep away most unwanted visitors. 3
When Famine answered the door, a young and rather cheery-looking girl handed him bunch of balloons (black-colored, if it must be noted) and grinned brightly at him. "Hi! Singing telegram for a Mister Raven Sable?"
Famine ellipsed.
The girl took this as a sign to go ahead with the message and launched into a rather fast-paced song with an unnerving amount of enthusiasm.
"Last time you were defeated by a preadolescent boy
Who banished you with scales not unlike a toy
The Apocalypse, the Apocalypse! It's happening again
If you listen closer, I'll say why, where, and when
Last time the Antichrist hadn't made up his mind
His indecisiveness had everyone in such a bind
The Apocalypse, the Apocalypse! It's happening today
In a few minutes, grab your cycle and be on your way
You've been kept in this house by forces unknown
But the reason for this boredom will soon be shown
The Apocalypse, the Apocalypse! It's happening in town
Outside a coffee house on the streets of 40th and Down
You've also been thinking about a certain someone--"
Famine suppressed a motion that probably would have been quite properly deemed a 'flail' by some, also suppressing the urge to slam the front door in the young girl's face. "That's -- I think I've heard enough. Thank you," he added weakly.
"No problem, sir," she chirped brightly. "Have a wonderful day!"
"I will if it actually turns out as planned this time," Famine muttered to himself, turning away from the door to look for his motorcycle keys.
1Relatively speaking.
2Although, it was rather unique in its own way, since not many gestures are able to recreate the noise of a few hundred bats in flight.
3Except for telemarketers and insurance salesmen; they are in a class of their own.
II.
At the intersection of 40th Street and Down, there was a coffee house.
There wasn't exactly anything particularly special about this coffee house that separated it from all the others in town, but it did have a good atmosphere and excellent service, as well as a miniature library of a constantly changing selections of books for people to read while there, though many used them as props to attract the attention of other people rather than for actual reading purposes. It was a moderately prosperous coffee house and it usually had a decent number of customers.
Tori Hades idly flipped through a heavily dog-eared romance novel, not even looking to see what sort of book she was holding in her hand. She only had it in her hands to keep them occupied. "I don't know what to do about him. It was a challenge at first, and I admit it was frustrating, but that didn't really matter to me. I mean, there were times when it was really worth it, but now -- all the progress I thought I made suddenly vanished, leaving only the frustration. I can't handle it."
"Do you want me to beat him up for you?" Ky grinned, then gave her a sheepish sort of look as she glared at him. "I'm sorry, Tori, there's really not much else I can offer to do for you. I could hit on him, possibly, but I think Tona has that covered already."
"Please don't. It's just--" Tori ran a hand through her hair, realizing how awkward the next statement was going to sound.1 "Do you realize how long I've gone without sex?"
"Poor thing." Ky said sympathetically. "You know, if you weren't family..."
This phrase had begun in jest, but Ky then realized that she technically wasn't closely related family (though she was closely related enough to be almost as good-looking as him). The two of them eyed each other uneasily for a brief moment -- and luckily2, at this moment, a commotion arose from outside.
The two of them half rose in their seats to see what all the excitement was about, but were saved the trouble by Tristan bursting through the doors of the coffee house.
"The sky's orange," he said excitedly, frantically pointing in the direction of the doors.3
1Usually this topic of conversation is absolutely mortifying for either both or one of the parties involved. Since they were them, it was only briefly awkward.
2Either for their sanity, or Maja's sanity, or both.
3And luckily for the wordcount of this fic, he was too out of breath to say anything else.
III.
The four of them rode beneath the orange sky, enjoying the moment.
The breeze rippling their hair and clothes, the strange-coloured sky, the roar of the motorcycles, the distant clash of traffic and angered yells, the smell of smoke and acrid oil; this was how it was meant to be.
War pulled alongside Famine, red hair whipping violently in her face, and gave him the slightest hint of a sharp grin. "You look gloomy," she shouted over the sound of their motorcycles.
"It's because of all this black," was his dry response.
"If you say so," the grin widened into an infuriating sort of smirk. "Though if you need cheering up, darling, I'm very willing to volunteer my services."
"I'll keep that in mind."
To an outsider, it would have seemed like a curt and sullen response, but he gave her an appreciative glance as he said it. They had a history together, literally, and while that should have made their coworker status awkward, it was War, which meant that everything was both casual and loaded with significance at the same time. Besides, almost everything with War was awkward, or at least, potentially dangerous.1
What Famine didn't notice was the slightly distressed look on Pollution's face following this exchange.
The sky darkened almost imperceptibly.
1It was also the last day of the world as they knew it, so why not have it go out with a bang? Literally.2
2Sorry.
IV.
"Bright, bright orange," Tristan continued after a deep breath. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like it. I was also listening to the news and there's also been a report of shooting stars in broad daylight, the really visible and bright kind, which is even stranger, and I don't know what to do about it, so I just decided to let everyone know in case something important was happening."
Either Ky or Tori was planning on responding (or at least planning on attempting the best possible response to something spoken by Tristan), but that didn't matter since at that exact moment, the door of the coffee house burst open again. Two men walked in, and with that simple event, the level of tension in the place multiplied.
"Bertie," Ky muttered under his breath.
"And Anaximander," Tristan added, growing a little paler. "I wonder what they're doing here, because whatever it is, it can't be anything good, unless they were planning on drinking some coffee before going back out and throwing themselves in the path of a fast-moving vehicle -- except I didn't really say that and I don't think it's going to happen, but--" He snapped his mouth shut as the two aforementioned men approached them, stopping only a few feet away.
The five of them were frozen in this way for a moment, poised on the brink of something.
Ky had his fists clenched and his jaw set, readying himself for anything. Tristan's eyes were wide, blue, and unassuming, but now he knew what certain people were capable of, and he also eyed the pair warily, not planning on making the same mistake twice. And Tori simply looked undecided, her hand paused halfway between holding Ky back and being a comforting presence on Tristan's shoulder.
Opposite them, Bertie slung a casual arm around Anaximander's shoulders. "Hello," was all he said, letting his reputation speak volumes more and cause more fear and uneasiness than his actual spoken words.
To everyone involved or watching, whether with interest or idly from the other side of the room, this scene had a hint of familiarity to it, a sense of déjà vu. It certainly had not happened before in the traditional sense; not even with half of the current cast of people present and the rest altered, not even a similar scene in the same location.
However, history does have a habit of repeating itself. Events play and replay themselves in ever-widening and shrinking circles, in different venues, clashing between eras and generations. Whether divine or mortal, male or female, evil or good or neutral, everything is based on and derives from one thing -- emotion.
At this moment, a demon arrived outside the coffee house; not just any demon, but the Lord of Hell.
At this moment, an angel also arrived outside the coffee house; not just any angel, but the Archangel Gabriel.
Also at this moment, a coincidence began to occur.
V. and VI.
Lucifer glanced at Gabriel.
Ky glared at Bertie.
A fifth motorcycle pulled up to the front of the coffee house.
"What," War was the first to speak, and with evident distaste, "are you doing here, Lucifer? Shouldn't you be happy that your son is finally doing what he's being told and be occupied with preparing for battle? After all, battle is what we're ultimately aiming for, isn't it?" She smiled thinly, but Lucifer merely (and surprisingly) laughed and shook his head.
"What are you doing here?" Ky asked with obvious distaste, glaring at both Bertie and Anaximander. Tristan idly and panickedly thought that perhaps they were doomed, because while they were not outnumbered, they were overpowered. Bertie took a step closer. The door of the coffee house opened once again.
"This isn't my son's fault. I'm not even prepared yet, and I was actually going to try to stop it," Lucifer said, still chuckling a little. "This is all his fault." He angled a head towards Famine.
Although they were in a coffee house crowded with people, even Tori was beginning to worry. It was at this moment that someone spoke up from behind Anaximander. "I'd appreciate it if you left my girlfriend alone."
Everyone turned towards Famine, who was absolutely no help as he looked just as confused as they did. Lucifer smirked. "The strange weather, the 'signs' of an Apocalypse? What do you think happens when an Apocalyptic Personification falls into unrequited love? Or, perhaps I should say, two Apocalyptic Personifications."
Tori blinked and possibly even gaped.
Famine spluttered and turned three different shades of red in two seconds1.
"Ryan?" Tori asked incredulously, but the Pendergast was too busy glaring at Anaximander and Bertie, who decided that now it was an even match, and besides, it was too risky for them to do anything in a coffee house full of people. "Was I imagining things, or did you actually just stand up for me?"
Pollution gave Famine an incredulous look, but for the first time, Famine noticed that it was also vaguely hopeful. This gave him the courage to say what he wanted to say, along with Lucifer's words; after all, if Lucifer wasn't telling the truth, the world was going to end that day anyway. "I-- I actually have to confess something, Pollution. I really like you, maybe even love you, and I always have."
Ryan could have said something sarcastic; it was on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he only gave Tori a serious look. "I couldn't stand to see you threatened." By this time, Bertie and Anaximander had slunk away to make other plans2, so his attention was completely on Tori now, and while not precisely smiling, his facial expression was genuine.
Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Finally."
Ky gave Tori a thumbs-up behind Ryan's back.
Gabriel looked confused. "I have no idea what I'm doing here. I guess God really does work in mysterious ways."
Tristan looked both relieved and bewildered and wondered if Ryan was acting strange because of the orange-colored sky, but was distracted by coffee before he could voice his opinion.
"No, Gabrielala, it's because I was here and you simply can't resist me," Lucifer smirked broadly and said one last thing before he vanished to where he had come from, his work complete. "I always knew you had a thing for fascist dictators."
While nobody was watching, Tristan ordered a cup of coffee, helped by a very enthusiastic and well-meaning young man who worked there.
Pollution blushed a little, attempting to hide behind his hair. What he said in response was quiet, but firm. "I love you too, Famine." Famine jerked his head up hopefully, having been staring at the ground for the past few seconds, which seemed more like minutes, waiting for a response. He tentatively laid a hand on Pollution's arm.
Tori gave Ryan a slightly hopeful and wary look, as if this was all made in sarcastic response and would vanish the minute she questioned it; she couldn't handle it if that happened, not now. She took a cautious step closer.
They kissed.
Although one of the kisses was a first kiss and the other one was certainly not a first kiss3, they were both the same in that they were passionate, fierce, and full of emotion. After a long while, both couples broke apart, rather breathless.
"What I don't understand," Famine said, still smiling faintly at Pollution, "is who sent that telegram. I think it might have been Lucifer."
Ryan still had his arms wrapped around Tori, but he frowned deeper. "So who sent the text about clowns attacking?"
Gabriel coughed lightly and decided that it was about time he left.
Tori stifled a giggle and glanced at Ky, who looked innocent. Meanwhile, Tristan choked on his coffee4 and attempted to look even more innocent.
The sky lightened imperceptibly. The orange began to fade. The point of the entire sequence events (and luckily, it was made and taken) was that sometimes there is an inexorable pull between two people, no matter how incompatible or compatible they may seem. Sometimes denying this pull causes a pseudo-Apocalypse, sometimes denying it only causes some sexual tension or a strange coincident which leads to bad luck.
The only thing that matters is that in the end, some pairings are ineffable.
1This beat his original record of two, which happened when War (on one of her PMS streaks) suggested that they attend the Rocky Horror Picture Show. In drag. She also handed Famine a corset.
2The plans may or may not have involved a large box.
3Though they had been spaced out far enough for it to feel like that.
4It was an epidemic.
Epilogue
As he happily watched Ryan and Tori sit together, Ryan's arm around Tori, Tristan suddenly noticed that there was something a little off about his coffee. It still tasted similar to what he usually had, but there was clearly something wrong with it, which was an utter tragedy, and being almost sickeningly nice wasn't going to stop him from getting to the bottom of the situation.
The young man who was the main worker at the coffee house had just served a group of four adults (two who, for some reason, reminded Tristan of Ryan and Tori although they didn't act or look the same in the slightest) when he was waved down by Tristan.
To make a long story short1, after some prolonged rambling about why he liked coffee and coffee houses, including some beaming over his first date that, you know, took place at a coffee house, partially, Tristan manage to fluster the young man into saying the worst words that ever existed in the entire world.
"It's decaf."
While Tristan resisted the rather unlike him urge to throw the coffee in this young man's face, one of the men at the other table overheard, choked on his own coffee2 and proclaimed some very strange words, considering he didn't even know if his coffee was tampered with, though he probably had suspected it.
"Not again."
1Too late.
2You would think that if he didn't know how to eat properly, he would at least drink properly.
End.