Ray bent over the equipment on the the work table, the parts wired together but not contained in the waiting case. It had taken him longer to get started than he'd wanted; that happened during the fall, what with it being the busy season. And he'd had to decide what to build first.
Connections double and triple checked, he switched on the power supply. He visually scanned over the equipment. Confident that none of the parts were going to short out, Ray slowly turned the dial on the box, eyes on the oscilloscope.
The smooth alteration of the sine wave was broken momentarily, only to resume as the dial rotated past the frequency. "What's that?" Ray tuned back to the anomalous signal. He watched the jagged wave break across the screen, grabbed his notebook and jotted down readings. It evened out slowly, leaving an ordinary wave.
Ray looked at it, puzzled, and turned the dial all the way up, then back down. Whatever it was, it was gone. He fiddled with the dial for several more sweeps. Nothing.
As he tried to tease it out, a yawn escaped. He realized he'd been in the small workroom for hours, and it had to be getting quite late. Slipping the tools back into their spots, he turned the light off and closed the door before heading upstairs.
Ray peered into the living room, and noticed that Winston was sliding his latest book onto the shelf. "Finished it already?"
"Just he story I was reading." Winston stretched his arms and back a bit. "Good thing it's a collection. Hard to put down." He looked over at the psychologist on the couch, glued to the TV. "Don't stay in Tombstone too late. You sleep like the dead as it is."
Peter just snorted and waved them off. He listened to the retreating footfalls and then the clanging on the stairs to the third floor. He looked over at the clock, his head lolling back. Sitting up, he tried to figure out who was even in the movie.
Like he even cared. He decided finally that the stampede was never going to end, and zapped it away with the remote. Peter zipped though the channels, each less interesting than the last. One final zap turned the TV dark. He pushed himself out of the couch and through the door, flipping off the light.
Peter scowled at the light peeking out from under the lab door before going into their room. He stripped out of his clothes and pulled on his pajamas, slipping under the cold blankets. He rolled onto his side with a small shiver as he pulled them around himself tighter.
Eventually, he dozed off. He half woke when the door opened and padded footfalls fell alongside the bed. Egon pulled his nightshirt from under his pillow, quietly undressing and pulling it over his head. He moved the neat pile of clothes from the bed before lifting the blankets and sitting. He looked over at Peter, then set his glasses on the nightstand, carefully sliding further under the covers. He turned slightly before gently settling onto his back.
Ray slipped into the small workroom, flipping on the light switch before closing the door. He checked over the connections again, pulling out tools as he went. Everything was still as he'd left it and as it should be. He flicked the power on, and again turned the dial slowly. The sine waves smoothly shifted, without the jagged signal reading.
He'd have to mention it to Egon tonight, just in case Egon's experiment was the origin of the interference. He turned the dial back, ready to start on the next part of his project. There it was again! Ray grabbed his notebook, eyes on the readings. He turned to the right page, logging in the anomaly. He hesitated and then tweaked the dial forward, back and then a little further. It was remarkably focused for noise, quickly falling back to a smooth sine wave on either side. Ray set the knob back, noticing that this time the duration was greater than last night. Even so, it slowly faded away.
"Definitely need to tell Egon about this." Ray studied his notes and took a few additional readings before heading back upstairs.
Winston slumbered peacefully, one arm over the blanket's edge. His muscular form made a neat mound down the middle of the bed, the easy rise and fall of his chest disturbed suddenly by small twitches. Half-awake, he rolled over on his side, trying to figure out what had woke him.
Squeaking. Metallic squeaking. He looked out into the dark room, before exasperation spread over his face at the slow realization of what he was hearing. Coming from the guestroom.
He got up hastily as the noise continued. Throwing on clothes, he headed down quickly to start breakfast, slowing down just enough to not reverberate the spiral stairs.
Winston had just started pulling out the beginnings of breakfast preparations when he saw Ray bound up the stairs. "Ray."
"Hi, Winston. Egon up yet?"
Winston looked away, and then back. "Haven't seen him."
Ray looked crestfallen for a moment. "Guess he stayed up pretty late?"
Winston prayed for strength as he finished gathering his materials. "What has you so excited?"
The engineer smiled. "I'm picking up a signal. Doesn't stay for very long, but I found it both last night and this morning. Thought it might be something Egon was working on. Does he have something actively cycling?"
Winston avoided saying anything for a moment. "Whatever it is, it's going to have to wait. Did you see that list of busts we've got for today?"
Peter held onto the cloth covered back, hands gentling and seeking connection. Egon drifted satisfied, nuzzling lazily. Peter felt the moment Egon's mind reengaged before he could slip away. Egon pulled away, giving Peter a last brush before leaving the bed and the room.
Peter sagged into the mattress after the snick of the door faded. He lay there for several minutes, staring at the ceiling, picking at the already cooling sheet under his right hand. His eyes darted from one clot of paint to another while his mouth considered twitching. Finally he unbuttoned his pajama top, forcing buttons through one after the other. Egon, of course, was in the shower, giving Peter entirely too long to stew. He wiped at his stomach perfunctorily before balling up the top and throwing it in the corner.
It didn't improve his mood, and now he was cold, bare chested and alone in bed. Peter sat there stubbornly for a long moment before throwing his legs over the bed's edge and jamming his feet into his slippers. He padded around to the closet, and ripped out a particularly disreputable t-shirt and a paint-spattered pair of jeans before grabbing underwear. Slamming the drawer closed with his hip dented his mood at best for a minute.
Egon came back into the room, heading for the closet and his clothes. "Peter, the shower is yours now." He slipped a pink shirt off its hanger, turning as the door closed harder than necessary. He looked at the mark his fingers had made in the collar, doing his best to smooth out the dents before dressing.
Ray looked up excitedly when Egon entered the kitchen. "Hey, I wanted to ask you, do you have something cycling in the lab?"
"Cycling?" Egon pushed his glasses up before sitting at the table, making the best of the now limited choices. "I have no electromechanical experiments of extended duration presently. Why do you ask, Ray?"
"I'm trying to figure out this signal I'm picking up. I thought it might be feedback from the lab, but if you're not running anything..."
"I could take a look at it this evening."
Ray nodded enthusiastically, starting up commentary on the upcoming day's busts.
Peter wasn't happy. His shower had finished off lukewarm before it'd even started. He clanged down the stairs like Marley, and plodded into the kitchen. Slimer was hovering by the table, drooling a green puddle onto the floor. Just.
"Don't even think it, Spud." Peter snatched the last of the edibles, leaving the rest to the ectoplasmic disposal. "My favorite: dry toast cold egg sandwich."
"Not the weirdest you've eaten." Ray looked at Slimer finishing off the former foodstuffs on the table. "He did wait for you?"
Peter bit into his breakfast, a big piece of egg falling to the floor only to be slurped up by a goopy tongue. "Sure, he's a real humanitarian."
"We've got some great busts today--"
"Not until I've had my breakfast." Peter headed for the stairs, clutching the remaining not-toast tidbit between the slices of bread.
Peter was who knew how many comics into a standup stupor, heckling the television listlessly. The no longer topical jokes fared especially badly under his volleys of snide retorts.
Winston looked over his book. "Pete, if they annoy you that much, why don't you turn it off?"
"Cause the other choices are the fungus marathon and Laugh-In reruns."
Winston shook his head. "Sixty channels and nothing on."
"Good thing we only had to pay for parts." Peter settled back into the parade of pundits. He was into one set so much that he almost didn't notice Egon passing between the two staircases, heading to the main floor.
Winston looked up at the relative silence to find Peter looking out the door. "P--"
"Egon branching out?"
"Ray's building something. Egon probably remembered just now that he was going to take a look. Ray's got an unexpected reading."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Like that isn't our motto. Expect the unexpected." Ray was a friend but budging Egon in the midst of an exciting battery of tests was right up there with relocating Excalibur. Could take some explosives. "What is Ray playing with?" His breezy tone was almost perfect.
Winston snorted. "Like I understood his explanation?" He paused. "You could go take a look."
"Nah, the acts are getting newer." Didn't make them funnier.
Peter was slouched further into the couch when Egon came back upstairs. Egon paused, looking into the room, or rather, at one particular psychologist. For a moment, he seemed about to say something. Instead he continued upstairs silently.
Winston bookmarked the end of his latest section not much later, and turned off the lamp. He walked to the door, glanced at Peter on the couch and hit the room light, before heading upstairs.
Peter opened the door to the former guestroom, nearly forgetting to exhale when he saw Egon asleep. In the streetlight, his blond hair nearly glowed. Peter flicked on the dresser lamp and gently closed the door before changing. Turning off the lamp, he padded over the cold floor and slipped under the covers. Peter looked over at his bedmate, kissed Egon's temple, and then rolled over.
He was asleep before Egon rolled against him, spooning.
Ray ran back down the stairs to the main floor and into the workroom right after supper. He hadn't had a chance to tinker with the apparatus that morning, as the day had started with an early emergency call. Egon had postulated that Ray was picking up the signature of the containment unit, or perhaps just harmonics from the local electrical grid in general. Ray made some adjustments to pick up those signals specifically. He performed the standard search. As he had thought, they were on several frequencies, and not in the bandwidth of his anomaly. They were also much more coherent. He took down notes on the signatures before reconfiguring the equipment. They just might be able to improve containment efficiency...
He pushed the thought aside, knowing that project would have to wait until the spring, at least. He wondered briefly if PKE fluctuated on the same schedule in the southern hemisphere, before tuning to the signal. It wasn't there. Ray left the dial in place; it was unlikely that it would start just as he tuned... Then it was back, and stronger than before. Ray took down information hurriedly, testing to see if it was more or less focused than before. And then it was gone. Ray twisted up and down the dial, finding no trace.
He turned to building an additional piece of equipment.
Janine looked at her desk while she settled in for the day. Three of the Ghostbusters were loading up Ecto-1. "Where's my radio?" She looked around the area that made up the 'office', still not seeing her portable sanity device. "Guys, have ya seen my radio?"
She looked over, realizing they weren't tuned in. "Hey, Slimer didn't think there was a burger in my radio, again, did he?!" It had really ticked her off when he'd divebombed it during a sizzling meat ad.
The three men looked over at her non-sequiter shrill. Winston spoke up. "What's the problem?"
"My radio. Where is it?" Janine watched as the fourth, red-headed Ghostbuster slid into view from upstairs. "Morning, Ray." She smiled when she took in the still towel-tousled hair; someone had been running late this morning.
Ray looked just a little downcast. "Um, I'll have it for you tomorrow." He rushed for the waiting car, hopping in as the large doors opened to the street.
Janine looked mildly perplexed as she sat down to work.
Winston looked on as Ray slipped out of the first floor workroom, carrying Janine's radio. "Busting not dangerous enough for you?"
Ray placed the radio in its customary spot. "I really thought I'd have it back together by this morning."
Winston just shook his head. Ray would have been thinking exactly that. "What are you working on that'd make you risk the Wrath of Melnitz?" Ray was about the only man that could get away with messing with a woman's electrical appliances.
"I needed to test the speakers." Ray wandered back into the workroom, starting the delicate work of securing the apparatus into the case.
Winston whistled at the speakers, an entirely inadequate word for the two mini-towers. "Every track getting its own channel?"
"Didn't have enough magnets." Ray snapped on the back and twisted in the small screws. "These will allow me to hear the signal and pick it apart. I can't tell much about it from the raw output on the oscilloscope, it's too complex."
Winston shook his head. Only Ray... "Still on that?" Winston looked closer at the speakers, the LEDs on their tops intriguing him. "You can just about control the Shuttle, huh?"
"We could listen in if I hooked them up to the main dish." Ray's eyes brightened for a moment. "This signal is very unusual. It's focused and of very limited duration, but I don't think it's cyclical." Ray thought for a second. "I suppose I could attach a printer..." Instead he started flipping switches, first on the 'scope, then on the apparatus and finally on the speakers. There was a noticeable electrical hum in the small room. Ray picked up his notebook and pen before starting to turn the dial.
Winston watched good-naturedly as Ray became immersed in his project. After several passes up and down the dial and growing perplexity on Ray's face, Winston started inching towards the door. He still remembered getting built into one of Egon's projects--
The sine wave went jagged and the low whine erupted into a loud whistling. Ray turned down the volume, took some notes and started fiddling with settings on the speakers. Winston made his exit unnoticed.
Egon entered the bedroom quietly, setting his shoes beside the dresser before closing the door and heading towards the bed. He pulled his nightshirt out as he watched Peter sleep by the pale light. He efficiently changed for bed and removed his glasses, setting them aside on the nightstand. Gingerly, he lifted the blankets and slid in beside Peter. He lay there, feeling the heat radiating from Peter's back, as he waited for sleep to take him.
"Nice of you to join me."
Egon started. "I didn't intend to wake you."
"I noticed." Peter rolled onto his back.
Egon was puzzled by the tone. He was still attempting to formulate a response when Peter continued.
"Was it so long ago you weren't sleeping without me? Wanted to sleep with me? Sleep with me."
"Peter." Egon rolled closer, still not touching. He'd been misunderstood. "I meant simply that I didn't want to wake you. I was trying to be considerate."
"Some consideration, sneaking into bed. Sleeping alone for two? What's that about? Like I don't wake up with you groping all over me."
Egon swallowed, then started to reach for his glasses and swing his legs out of bed. "I'm sorry." He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
"That didn't come out right." Peter sighed. "Just... damn it, this has gone beyond friendship. It's love, Egon. So don't try slipping into bed unnoticed." Peter looked at Egon, still stopped mid-escape. "Or out of it. Not like this."
Egon looked over his shoulder, then his arm retracted under the blanket and his legs pulled back across the mattress.
Peter withdrew his hand. "Let's get some sleep." He rolled over, smiling when he felt Egon's warm breath on his neck.
Winston rolled over, to find Ray sitting on the edge of his bed. "Just turning in or getting up?"
"Sorry." Ray couldn't reign in his excitement entirely. "I think I'm really close. I had to recompress the signal, and--" Ray watched Winston hide a yawn. "Sorry. I'm going to work on it." Ray slipped his shoe on and headed downstairs, trying to be quiet.
Winston slumped back against his pillow. If only you could bottle that enthusiasm. "Wouldn't need coffee," he muttered. He readjusted his pillow and blankets and went back to sleep.
Egon nuzzled into a warm neck, his arms wrapped firmly around a solid chest. His hands splayed and wandered, nose traced ear and nape. Chin rubbed shoulder. Egon woke up. His arms went limp, and he pulled his face back minutely.
The red numbers of the clock were a blur, however the ambient light told him it was some time before morning proper. According to Venkman Standard Time anyway. Egon breathed deeply, eyes closed. He could just about stay that way. Just. Gingerly, he untangled from Peter, leaving the bed and then the room without waking him.
Peter opened an eye, wondering why he was awake. The sunlight was barely as bright as the streetlamps it had replaced. He noticed the empty side of the bed, and struck it with a half-cupped hand, peripherally aware that the sheet had cooled. Peter rolled over, face down on Egon's side. He wallowed, finally pushing himself up from the mattress. Rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand, he slumped out of bed and grabbed his clothes on the way to the bathroom.
Winston stood at the threshold of the kitchen, leaning on the doorjamb. "Peter," In disbelief, Winston entered the room. Breakfast wasn't very far along, but Peter making it at all... "Did you sleep last night?"
More was cut off by Ray bounding up the stairs, ducking into the kitchen when he noticed people. "Morning. I think tonight I'll be able to decompose the signal."
"Eww, not at breakfast." Peter made a face and then turned back to his cooking.
Winston just shook his head as he pulled some juice out from the fridge. "Still don't know where it's coming from?"
Ray started pulling out flatware. "That's the odd thing. It's almost a local effect, but it's not being caused by any of the equipment in the firehouse."
"Or being transmitted." Winston thought for a moment.
"You're going to be disappointed when it turns out to be some kid with a ham radio." Peter transferred food from the stove to the table. He looked at Ray. "Then again, it'd give you a new penpal."
Ray rolled his eyes, smiling at Peter's grin.
Egon strolled into the kitchen, assiduously writing down figures in a small notebook. He sat down at the table without lifting his eyes from the page. He missed the look Peter flashed at him.
"You are in for a treat. A rare creation. A Venkman breakfast."
"Didn't Frankenstein say the same thing?" Winston pulled his chair up to the table.
Peter sat at his desk, aggressively going through a stack of paperwork with his pen. Each bill required him to read it carefully before unearthing the company deskset, write the check and mark it in the register. Other pieces gathered a barked laugh and a paperclip attaching an enlarged photocopy of the property damage clause of the standard contract. He dashed out scathing retorts to a few corporations who were trying to quibble about their arrears.
Past the spill of light from Peter's office, Ray was continuing with his project. The apparatus and speakers had been joined by yet more equipment, still in the state of electronic spaghetti. He flipped toggle switches, pressed buttons, twisted dials and slid slides, all the while taking comprehensive notes of the results.
"That your signal?" Winston looked at the oscilloscopes as the waves did everything but make a smiley face. He asked the question again before exhaling in exasperation and tapping Ray on the shoulder.
"Hi, Winston." Ray took off the large stereo headphones, a cacophony of whistles, clicks and other noise spilling from them before he flicked a switch.
"I thought your signal didn't hang around."
"It's just a substitute I built for testing." Ray pointed at one of the coteries of coils and capacitors before disconnecting it from the circuit and reconnecting the actual apparatus in its place.
Peter pulled himself up the stairs, kicking them a strong temptation when he saw the light seeping from under the closed lab door. Instead, he mounted the landing and trudged into his room. He looked at the still rumple-blanketed bed. Frowning, he grabbed his pajamas from where he'd stuffed them after his shower. Finally he started to get undressed. He heard the door close as his shirt was over his eyes.
Egon caught his breath slightly, schooling his face by the time Peter had his arms free. He pulled his folded nightshirt from under his pillow, slipped his suspenders from his shoulders and unbuttoned his shirt.
"What was this morning about?"
"This morning?" Egon removed his shirt and folded it, setting it aside.
"Your houdini. After I asked you not to."
"I don't recall any instructions involving a deceased magician." Egon finished undressing, dropping the nightshirt smoothly over his head. He started to lift the blankets, instead straightening them. He flipped the righted bedding back. "Coming to bed?"
Peter looked at Egon, mouth agape. "Damn it, were you paying any attention?! You slipped out this morning the same way you slip in."
"I could say something about your own behavior." Egon sat down on the bed, his back rigid.
"What?" He was starting to get cold shirtless, but he didn't want to put on his pajama top or discarded shirt.
Egon turned to look at Peter. "You retire late."
"And I'm still going to sleep alone." Peter finally shrugged into his pajama shirt.
"You are more than capable of coming into the lab."
"Don't tell me you couldn't find me." Peter shook his head. "What the hell have you been working on to keep you in there that long?"
"You were engaged in just what sort of research?" Egon pulled off, folded and set aside his glasses.
Peter's eyes went flinty and his mouth pinched into a grimace. "And had it been something worth ignoring me, you'd be boring me with polysyllabic nomenclature." Peter hastily undid and removed his pants, throwing them aside with a thud, and finished changing.
"Peter." Egon tried focusing without his glasses. "You've always come to pry me out of the lab before."
"Make sure you reach escape velocity." Peter plopped onto the bed. "Which one of Newt's laws did we just demonstrate?"
Egon shot Peter a myopic glance. "First Law of Motion."
"That would have been my second guess. Okay, so I was thinking thermodynamics."
Egon's mouth quirked slightly. "So, Doctor Venkman, what is the correct manner of getting into and out of bed?"
Winston watched Ray encourage the equipment, spinning dials up and down, looking for the signal. "Looks like it doesn't want to play tonight." He turned to leave. The faint crackle came from the speakers, turning into complex whistling. Winston looked back at Ray rapidly making notes. "Ray."
Ray lifted an eye up from his notes. "Wow." There was a very wispy image of a drapery-clad woman in the lab, her garment billowing as if in a wind. Keeping one eye on her and another on the equipment, he hunted for a meter.
Winston had one out while Ray was still searching. He looked at it, concerned when the apparition didn't register. Should have been at least be a class three. He was still prodding it as she slowly faded. "Is this broken?" He handed it over as he looked where she had been.
Ray looked over the PKE meter as only he could, fieldstripping and rebuilding it as he went. "No, it's fine. But... it's set for ghosts."
"What else could she have been?" Winston watched Ray detach the 'graph and connect the leads to the meter. "What are you doing?"
"The meter was set for ghosts, but I think it might have picked up more than what it read out." Ray touched something and the styli jerked into motion for several seconds. He sat the meter down as they stilled, staring at the printout.
Winston had a bad feeling about anything that could render Ray speechless.
Peter walked at a crawl into the kitchen, speeding up slightly as he neared the coffee pot. He poured himself a cup, took a sip, and then grabbed the sugar, dumping in an unhealthy amount.
Ray came bounding into the kitchen while Peter was drinking his coffee. "Hey, last night the signal became a spectral manifestation."
"You say that like it was a good thing." Peter slammed back about half of the mug's contents. "Let me guess: blue slime. And now it's going to play hide and go seek in the firehouse."
"Of course not." Ray did get a contemplative look briefly. "We aren't being haunted."
"Good. I hate working for free. And cleaning up afterwards."
"She's not actually a ghost."
Peter looked at Ray. His questions were still fighting out priority when Winston walked in.
"What is she?" Winston opened the fridge, pulling out a juice pitcher. "Peter, you about to join humanity, or are you staying a zombie for the day?"
"She? How did a signal turn into a 'she'?" Peter brought the mug to his lips again, noticing the thick sediment of sugar just in time. "I don't want to know." Peter relaxed slightly when no extended description poured out, and added some coffee to his cup of sugar. "What are you going to do about her?"
"I hadn't really thought about it." Ray thought for a moment. "Help her, I suppose."
Peter lowered the mug. "Help her? You don't even know what she is. Damn it, now you've got me calling a signal a her." Peter took a swig of the coffee.
"Well, she looked like a muse."
Ray and Peter both looked at Winston. He continued, "What else would be wearing classical drapery?"
Peter looked on in disbelief, tipping out the coffee mug and turning on the water to rinse it. Ray thought for a moment.
"I suppose that's a good description. We'll need to figure out the muse of what, though." Ray left the kitchen, excited. Winston finished his juice, put the pitcher back in the fridge and rinsed his glass before following.
Peter stood for a moment dumbfounded before turning to the fridge.
Winston looked up from his latest book, and glanced at the piles of other books spread over the heavy table. "So, where do we start?" Despite his whispering, he looked down the stacks and across the open room.
Ray started to answer, but stood instead. He pulled on his coat, and sliding his chair back in, he gathered half the books. Winston followed with the other half, both depositing them on a waiting cart. He waited until they were through the doors to speak.
"Let's try Gimbel's." Ray started walking, patting the lion on the way down the stairs.
Winston followed. "Think that's going to be the answer?" Gimbel's was one of a laundry list of old department stores that had early radio stations. They were already reaching, pretty much assuming that since the 'muse' started as a radio signal, that she was a radio muse.
"With our luck? Better to check it now than after we've been all over New York," Ray smiled back at Winston while jogging ahead.
Winston shook his head. "Then it would be the answer." They blended into the bustle of the New York streets.
A heavy handful of blocks later they stood in front of a cliff-like gray stone building, the windows boarded up for several stories off the street. Predating the nearby skyscrapers, it retained the pride of an aging matron among young dragoons, even through the plywood.
Winston looked around cautiously as they slowed to a near-tourist crawl. "What's the plan?"
"Get inside like any other abandoned building." Ray headed around, looking for a discreet point of entry. Winston shook his head and followed.
Inside the building, the street noise was muffled to a low rumble. Ray's pocket maglite cut a narrow blade through the dark, showing the stripped main floor. Here and there, it caught on the natural detritus of moving out.
"Like a tomb." Ray picked his way through carefully, lashing the light up to the ceiling several stories above from time to time.
Winston shook his head. He made sure he followed closely, semi-whispering, "How will we know whether it's here... whatever we're looking for?"
Ray pulled out something that looked like a cross between a remote and a handleless PKE meter. "It's hardwired for her frequency, and I've increased the gain." He looked between it and the light, finally handing Winston the light.
"Let's do a standard pattern."
Peter fidgeted in the living room, finally showered and dressed, but incredibly bored and annoyed. Realistically, he understood waking up to an empty bed. He slept in, and Egon probably figured to let him. Yet after the past week, he would've really liked a surprise. Damn it, they had the firehouse to themselves, and Egon was in the lab. Peter headed downstairs.
He hunted through his office, collecting unread and half-read periodicals from the various places he'd stashed them. He gently replaced the girlie magazines that got knocked about in the process. Gathering his reading together, he went back upstairs.
Several journals in hand, Peter opened the the lab door and breezed in, plopping onto the couch. He dropped the magazines on the floor, picked up the top one, and flipped to the start of an article.
The first one he completed in good spirits. The second article, he rustled the pages a touch loudly. By the third one, he barely remembered one sentence to the next. After a few paragraphs of the fourth, he spiked it like a football. The smack of glossy heavy stock rang out in the quiet room. Egon looked back from the lab bench reprovingly.
"I've finally gotten your attention." Peter stalked over to Egon.
"That's never been a problem before."
Peter bit back the torrent of half-formed words, twisting one way and then back. "Damn it." He ran his hands into his hair in frustration.
Egon looked at Peter in concern. "What is wrong?"
"The short list is what's right." Peter almost headed for the door, instead throwing himself onto the abused couch.
"Peter." Egon's eyes went wide before standing and following the psychologist. "What is the matter?"
"Damn it! Isn't the fact that we are alone and still in the lab enough?"
Egon blinked. "You have something in mind? Would you care to elucidate?"
Peter bolted upright. "Get horizontal; vertical for that matter. Run the bases. Play doctor. Make the beast with two backs."
The corner of Egon's mouth quirked and his eyes locked with Peter's. "Why didn't you just say so?"
"Like I should have to!" Peter became very quiet, listening for any sound from the rest of the firehouse.
"Despite the phenomena with the phone, we are not telepathic. Speech is the customary method of intercourse."
It was Peter's turn to blink.
"You had no problems communicating prior to Winston and Ray's disclosure." Egon looked at Peter. "That is involved somehow , isn't it?"
"Maybe. But I shouldn't have to drag you to bed at night."
"And I should wait for you to turn in?" Egon waited for the words to register on Peter's face. "Why does Winston and Ray knowing make such a difference?"
Peter looked at Egon disbelievingly.
"I can conjecture, however it is not the same thing as knowing." Egon reached out for Peter, hand landing on his T-shirt covered shoulder. "You'd think it'd be easier for you to talk about this than act."
"I'm just a practical guy." The words caught slightly in his throat. "Hands on."
"And that's why you've been hiding instead of coming to bed?"
"How can I be hiding if you know where I am? If you weren't holed up in here..." Peter's steam fizzled under Egon's steady gaze. "So, who's been hiding?"
"What corrective measure do you suggest?" Egon stepped back, turning towards the work bench, tidying up defensively.
Peter opened his mouth, speechless. He pushed off from the couch, and was across the room before he could think. His mouth latched onto Egon's. Off-guard, Egon speedily took control, deepening the kiss.
Finally they slipped apart enough to breathe. "We will have to continue this."
Peter drew Egon closer, teasing lips with his own. "Concur." Peter resumed the mouth meld.
"That's not what I meant." Egon nuzzled Peter's jaw, hands sliding across the strong back. "Intending on that vertical?"
The question took a moment to register. Then Peter chuckled, breaking the embrace, pushing Egon towards the door. "Rather control the horizontal."
The bedroom door reverberated, to be echoed by springs.
Winston stood in the stairwell's doorway, waiting for Ray to finish the last bit of the sweep. The unboarded upper levels made them less dependent on the flashlight, but more concerned with being spotted. Even though neither of them had expected to find anything, Ray frowned slightly as he followed Winston out the door and down the dark stairs.
They exited cautiously from their entrance, blending into the normal flow of foot traffic smoothly. Ray's spirits lifted as he headed for the next possible building. Winston smiled while he lengthened his stride to catch up.
The ruck-blanketed bedmound started moving on the right side. The motion of a long arm and leg were discernible over a more compact mass, while a blond head bobbed. After several minutes, Egon abruptly stilled, and started to edge towards the side of the mattress.
"Hey." Peter turned, tousle-headed, towards Egon, eyelids still at half-mast with sleep. "What's wrong?" Peter re-established contact under the covers. Egon's confused expression registered.
"Wasn't a little wakie action what you had planned?" The query was underscored by Peter's own invitation. "Egon?" Peter stopped at Egon's lack of response.
"I thought- that you were adverse to 'wakies'."
"Where the hell did you get that idea? Best reason to get up."
Egon couldn't refrain from smiling, though only for a mere instant. "You said.."
Peter sat up, pulling the blankets up over his chilling flesh. "I would never say something that stupid."
"'...Wake up with you groping all over.'" Egon pulled on his glasses, oblivious to the cold air against his exposed chest. He started to speak, only to be cut off by Peter.
"That wasn't what I meant!"
"You were remarkably precise in your words. The tone was distinctly pejorative."
Peter looked at Egon in disbelief. "You were still wearing your nightshirt, just hitching it up for business. The contrast I was going for was you slipping into bed like I wasn't even here."
Egon blinked before sliding back under the covers. Peter stopped his tongue while he reviewed what he'd spit out. His eyes rolled up and back as he castigated himself silently.
Using his best mattress manner, Peter sidled closer. "Call me old-fashioned, but I like birthday suits." Egon twisted back at the comment. Peter waggled his eyebrows. "We seem to be undressed."
Egon did a good charade of a fixed point.
Peter waited for a moment, then ducked under the covers as far as Egon's chest. A long-fingered hand clasped over blankets and head, only to slip away. Peter surfaced, settling along Egon. "Nude is good." Then it was Peter's turn to gasp as he was flipped.
Winston stared at the collection of storefronts along Broadway, shaking his head. It wasn't bad enough that the old Wanamaker's had sprawled over more than a block, or that it had burned down when he was just a kid. But this. "Let's get started."
It was like an annoying bust without the slime, surreptitiously searching, hoping for a sign that they'd found whatever it was. Quickly they learned that it was easier for Ray to be overlooked if Winston browsed away from him.
"Is there something I can help you find?" The sales rep quickly noted the number of pockets on Winston's coat.
Ray gestured up ahead to one of the restaurants. They slipped inside, Ray ordering as soon as possible, then handing Winston some money before leaving him at the register. Winston made his choices, paid and then carried the tray of food from the counter further into the Ukrainian deli. Finally Ray rejoined him, shaking his head before smiling at the pierogis and big bowl of borscht.
Winston focused on the cartoon image of a black hooded man leaning on a huge ax before letting himself be hustled inside. The display of left mannequin legs high on the shelf made him wonder at first. Then he noticed the coffee mugs as Ray started his sweep. Wandering down the tightly loaded shelves, he couldn't believe that they expected to sell half of the stuff. Goofy little signs gave the weirdest 'suggested uses.' Partway down the second aisle, he got the strangest feeling, finally realizing it was because no 'helpful' clerk had approached him yet. He kept strolling through, boggling at the odd things the buyers had found.
Ray looked at the small sack with the Axman on it as they stepped out, and Winston slipped it into his pocket. "What'd you get?"
"Scrabble letters and glow-in-the-dark fishing line."
Finished, they walked down the block. As they approached 12th, Winston stopped. He looked from one storefront to the other and back several times. The right corner read "The Strand;" the one just ahead, "Forbidden Planet."
"Ray." He couldn't believe... "You knew." It was just possible that Ray didn't know every used bookstore or comic shop in New York. But an intersection with both? Impossible.
Peter crawled out of bed in his robe to set a stack of emptied plates on the dresser. Quickly, he slid between the clean sheets, tossing his robe aside. He traced a fingertip along and behind Egon's ear, smoothing back a few stray wisps into the damp hair before planting a row of small kisses leading to the full mouth.
Egon rolled Peter over, intensifying the soft brush of lips into a deeper, more penetrating kiss.
Peter slipped out of the escalating embrace. "Egon. This ride is closed for maintenance." He snuggled back against Egon's bare chest, hand lazily brushing.
Egon looked down at Peter curled up against him. He stroked fingers along Peter's neck, lips tracing face to jaw. His hands slipped lower under the blankets.
Peter nuzzled pacifically before he squeaked out, "Spengs!" He sat up. "I know I'm irresistible..."
"Peter?"
He turned, taking on a concerned expression at Egon's complete perplexity. He rubbed his hand meditatively over Egon's cheek. "Let's just fiddle around. It's not all tilt-a-whirl and bumpercars," Peter leered, "fun as that is." Peter slid down, wrapping an arm over Egon and hugging him close.
Egon placed his own arms around Peter experimentally, first in a loose embrace,then slowly cinching it tighter.
Winston and Ray approached the subway steps, weary from their fruitless search. As they joined the flow of people heading down, Winston caught sight of something from the corner of his eye. Grabbing Ray, he fought his way cross-stream. Floating just above the sidewalk was the gossamery woman.
They stared for a moment, unmindful of the weird looks, people walking around them. Several brushed through the muse, causing her to shimmer. Winston was the first to start looking around, as if trying to find his bearings.
"They can't see her." The question of why was foremost in his statement. "Why now?"
Ray answered only by following her as she started gliding away. Winston set off after the occultist.
Winston looked at the Library in disbelief as they passed, continuing Uptown. When she finally halted, he looked in exasperation at the lit-up Empire State Building. Ray started to speak, his expression apologetic.
Winston raised his hand to stop Ray's explaination. "I don't want to know. I just don't want to know." Winston opened the door, and let the muse glide inside.
They followed her out of the elevator and down the hall, where she stopped at a door. They halted, Winston gesturing that Ray should try it. It opened and they entered, going through the half-lit receptionist area. On the other side was a warren of short cubicles with people wearing phone headsets. Few noted their entrance, either too focused to see them or too bored to care.
The muse skated through the center, and homed in on a particular spot, where a spectral halo microphone materialized. She plucked it out of the air, then glided back to Ray and Winston, snatches of old radio broadcasts sounding as she moved. The microphone morphed into a minuscule headset. As she slipped it on, her hemline shortened. She spun up to the ceiling and disappeared in a popflash.
Ray and Winston looked at each other and made a quick retreat out of the office, down the hall and into the elevator. Again on the first floor, they headed for the street doors, this time passing by the display on NBC history.
Peter and Egon, both dressed, walked into the living room. Peter flopped onto the couch while Egon opened the cabinet under the stereo. Deftly, he poured a record from its sleeve and lowered it onto the spindle, gently setting the tone arm to a track. The light sounds of a string orchestra started while he walked over to the couch. He offered a hand to Peter.
Peter looked up perplexed. The music continued as Peter belatedly realized Egon's intent. "You have got to be kidding."
"On the contrary." He looked at Peter for a moment. "What was it you said? Not all roller coasters and bumper cars?"
Peter stood, wondering why Egon would misquote on purpose.
Egon placed his right hand on Peter's waist, holding his left one up and out.
Peter gawked. "Oh, no, you don't. I am not letting you lead."
Egon stepped forward with his left foot. He stepped to the right with his right foot then left foot. After a few awkward shuffles, Peter gave up in self-defense, still recalcitrant during Egon's right back, side left rights.
A minute later, Egon turned them out from the couch, directed Peter into a circle before progressing them further around the room.
The tone arm was nearly at the center when Ray and Winston peered in from the doorway. Egon acknowledged them curtly. Peter was blissfully unaware of Ray's broad grin and Winston's blinking disbelief, until Egon hesitated a turn for a split second too long, causing Peter to look behind him.
Peter signaled Egon covertly to execute a turn. "What, you thought I couldn't dance?"
Fin