Ecto pulled into the firehouse wearily. The worksuited men stepped out, smoothly opening the cargo door and emptied the back of traps and packs with a shocked precision. As they completed the post-bust procedures, getting the ghosts into the containment grid, the accelerators cycling and the jumpsuits cast away, they broke apart. Egon headed upstairs and Peter followed.
"Spengs." Peter stepped close and grabbed Egon, pulling the taller man into a tight hug. He felt the familiar large hands settle on his shoulders. The scene had replayed so many times since the founding of Ghostbusters. It was a crazy business that could hinge on the least little thing. For or against.
Egon held his dark-haired friend, understanding how bad a bust this had been. It had unsettled him as well. Mostly busts went by the numbers. It was the exceptions that kept them honest, like this last one. He tipped his head, waiting for Peter's quip that would make this last brush with death recede comfortably enough to be borne.
Peter looked up, about to make the wiseass remark that was his stock of trade. But then the pattern shifted ever so slightly, a realignment of mere inches. An accident of two small deviations. Lips met.
Peter's eyes went wide and Egon's shut. The kiss started slow and built, like a well-laid fire. First a simple press together, it then opened, hands cupping in support of the mouths' exploration. They slipped apart naturally, not quite breathless, arms still comfortably circling.
Green eyes sparkled bright, a smile teasing across his lips. Concerned blue depths regarded back from a set face. Egon's arms went rigid. They continued to stand, gazes as locked as their embrace.
Before either could formulate words, footsteps approached. They stepped apart.
Ray entered, smiling. "That was something, wasn't it guys?" The auburn haired man exuded excitement.
Peter and Egon exchanged a sideways glance.
"I, for one, hope we don't have another one like that." Winston walked behind the shorter Ray, dropping a hand on his shoulder. "Pizza?"
"I think one close encounter per night is a good idea. No offense, Ray." Peter smiled widely.
"And you think pineapple isn't of the third kind?" Egon's bass rolled around the words.
Winston laughed.
"I wondered when you'd come down." Egon swirled the spoon around the saucepan and deftly poured two mugs. He handed one to Peter and claimed the second for himself.
"This means you want to talk." Peter looked over the rim of the cup as he drank the smooth warmth. He waited warily for Egon's next move.
"You want to forget about it?" The phlegmatic delivery held no reproach.
"Spengs." Peter passed the mug to the other hand and sat it down on the counter. "Do you?" The words were a little too bright, a brittle alloy of hope and fear.
Egon looked at Peter firmly.
"Okay, so we talk. You'd think you're the psychologist." He grabbed the mug and started for the table.
"If I don't miss my guess," Egon's voice hinted at the absurdity of that notion, "Ray and Winston will descend on the cocoa once it is obvious that it's not walking in on its own." He strode out of the kitchen.
Peter quickly topped off his mug before following upstairs, nonchalant.
Egon was waiting in the lab, sipping his cocoa. He looked up as Peter stepped inside and closed the door.
Peter walked over to stand by his friend. "So, where did you want to start?"
Egon put down his mug on the table. He rested his hands on Peter's shoulders. He stood there for a long moment, looking into the green eyes intensely.
Peter found the table with his mug as he held the gaze. He cupped the newly free hand over Egon's. Peter paused. "How about where we left off?" He closed the space between them, reaching up to kiss.
Egon fell into the spirit, a hand cradling Peter's head while the other arm pulled him tight. Peter was glad for the support because the mouth against his was heady. Soft and strong, its heat poured into him.
Egon felt the hand stroking the nape of his neck, noticing the feel of Peter's hair under his fingers. He pulled back, ending the kiss.
Peter looked up into the depthless blue eyes. "You've been holding out on us, Spengs." His mouth crooked into a smile.
"Peter." With a will Egon disentangled his hands from the dark hair and stepped back.
"Uh uh." Peter snagged a hand, keeping Egon in arms' reach. He smiled as the hold was returned. "If there was a Nobel for it, you'd have it."
Egon plucked the P.K.E. meter off the table, pointing it first at Peter and then himself. He looked down as it stayed silent.
Gently Peter unwrapped the long fingers from the device and replaced it on the bench. "Not ghostly possession. We should have that talk." Peter kept hold of both hands, anchoring them.
"Doesn't this strike you as odd?" There was an undercurrent to the words.
"Compared to what? I'm serious." He clutched the hands that tried to pull away. "Any stranger than the goopers in the containment grid? Any stranger than our friendship?" There was an edge to his words.
Egon's eyebrow arched.
"How did you learn to kiss like that? Okay, so it is odd. I think by now that would be familiar." He smiled slightly as his eyes darted.
"Are you sure, Doctor Venkman?"
Peter swallowed at the intense look. "As sure as I've ever been." Thought fled as lips closed and then opened over his. If he'd thought he'd been kissed before, he was wrong. He held on tight as his mouth was methodically plundered. He pulled just enough attention from meeting the lips to draw them towards the couch before his knees gave up and dropped him on the floor.
He was surprised as he was laid down and Egon leaned over him. Peter's breath left him as the lithe form settled and covered him. He responded to the decisive course-blazing, digging his fingers into the remarkably soft blond hair as his hips bucked. He turned his head, brushing his lips over the fair skin. It was a one-way express. Exerting more will than he thought he had left, Peter wrapped his arms tight around Egon and squeezed. Temporarily stilling the taller man, Peter half-shucked their pants out of the way.
It was quick from that point. Peter muffled Egon with his shoulder, the teeth against his flesh somehow shocking himself into matching silence. Afterwards, his one hand rubbed small circles in the small of Egon's back while the other ruffled blond hair.
Egon lay there for a moment collecting himself and then tensed. Sitting back and breaking Peter's grasp he pulled up and roughly refastened his pants. He stood and walked over to the workbench.
Peter looked up confused as Egon's face resumed its normal controlled expression. Without anything else to do coming to mind, Peter eased the zipper of his jeans back up. "Egon." A waver of a question haunted it.
"You better grab a shower." The words held nothing more than they would have after a bust.
Peter flashed a questioning look. Finding no answer, he put his game face on and left, pulling the door shut behind him.
Egon's shoulders slouched. His arms crossed, hands sliding over the surface until first his elbows and then face dropped.
Trust the night not to go quietly, thought Peter. "Somebody get a trap under this. Now." He winced as the more than vaguely insecty-appearing ghost lunged, chittering and pinchers snapping. He kept a firm bead on the gooper until the fan of bright light drew it into the trap and the doors snapped shut. "Thanks. Can we go home now?"
Egon looked at the PKE meter. "I'm reading only residuals."
"Good. Because this place still needs an exterminator." Peter jumped as the bugs skittered out into the returned shadow.
Winston shook his head. "You're a real headcase, you know that, Pete?"
"Goes with the job. Spengs, don't stop for any fungus, okay?"
"Let's grab breakfast on the way back." Ray stepped into the false dawn that was making the night-sky blue.
Peter missed the rest of the morning. Especially after getting up in the wee hours for a bust, he liked to sleep in as long as he could manage. His glance at the clock surprised him. It was nearly noon. Why... His head fell back on the pillow. Pulling him out of bed was Egon's job.
He doubted it was anything as simple as an oversight. It was an old habit, so old that Egon would even delegate waking Peter to Ray or Winston if there was pressing work in the lab. Peter quickly threw on some clothes, swung through the kitchen for a snack, then headed for the lab.
Egon looked up at the knock. He watched as Peter stood in the doorway, hand still on the knob. "Enter."
Peter sat on a vacant stool. "Talk to Uncle Peter. It's not like you to give me a minute's peace." He watched as Egon pursed his lips and let them relax several times. Normally not a patient man, Peter waited for Egon to chose his words.
"Have you thought about it?"
Whatever he'd been expecting, Peter knew that wasn't it. Not that question, not in that tone.
Egon stood, his back to Peter. "I can't stop. It shouldn't have happened. Not that way." He turned at the gasp.
Peter got himself under control as he registered the rest of the statement. "How should it have happened?" His grin evaporated at the passionate look that was quickly shuttered.
"I have work to do." Egon sat back down and resumed his esoteric labors.
Peter blinked. Realizing that short of crossing the streams he wasn't going to regain Egon's attention, he let himself out of the lab.
"Should I be checking the basement for pods?" Winston looked at Peter tying the garbage bag shut and pulling it from the can.
"Huh?" Hefting it and the collected bag from the other wastebaskets, he walked to the sidedoor and undid the latches. He stepped out briefly and then came back in, relocking the door.
Winston's eyes went wide when Peter actually replaced the liner and the can to its correct location. "Okay, I'm checking for the pods."
Peter shrugged as the other Ghostbuster headed for the basement. If he'd been washing dishes when it wasn't his turn, Winston would have had a point. Though, he was going to track down the MIA dirties.
The Next Night...
"We are going to talk." Peter sat the plate of sandwiches down. Egon had missed several opportunities to display wit during the day's busts. Otherwise he'd been holed up here in the lab all day. Peter had had enough suspense.
"Peter."
"I screwed up. You wanted to talk, and I interrupted. Though you seemed amenable." Peter smiled smarmily. "So, talk, Spengs. Use all those twenty dollar words you've been saving up."
"You really are incorrigible."
"You noticed." Peter fluttered his eyelashes. "Come on, the doctor is in."
"Why?" The word hung portentously. "No, I know you, Peter. This is seriously outside your parameters. Or is there actually something you've kept secret?"
"I don't know." Peter let Egon ponder that while he worked out the minefield his friend had laid in the second question. "Want to have a go at your own question? Okay, you're right. I'm a horndog and have no memoirs to write because I've already kissed and told all. Petey Venkman is in new territory. It's early for a midlife crisis, so maybe I'm growing up."
Egon looked askance.
"I'm wounded to the quick." Peter folded his hands over his chest melodramatically. He dropped them to his side. "It could happen."
"Stranger things have happened."
"We've been paid pretty well for some of them. So, how about you, Spengs?" His light tone slipped. The possibility that Egon had kept something hidden taunted Peter.
"I have no hypothesis." The bass wavered infinitesimally.
Peter's eyes went wide at the laconic confession. Egon loathed not having any answer; he'd rather present the flimsiest of antecedents. "You mind if we sit down?" He crossed and plopped onto the couch.
Egon looked bitterly at the furnishing. "I'm going to have to get rid of that." He sat at the far end from Peter, arms resting along tops of legs.
"This couch?" Peter draped possessively over it. "Egon, what is wrong?" The psychologist sat up, scooting closer to the physicist. "Tell me the problem."
The blond head turned, blue eyes burning like a laser. "I don't do quickies."
Peter formed a shocked little 'o'. "That the only problem?" The words sounded vaguely wishful.
"Peter." The name came out as a combination of a stern no and an permissive later, shaded with smoke.
"Okay, Spengs." Peter leaned in for a quick kiss. It took all his willpower to pull away. "I'll work something out." He swallowed at the burning look Egon gave him.
A Few Frenetic Days Later...
Peter stood before the door, gesturing to it with his hands like a gameshow host.
"It's a storage closet." Egon braced himself as the door was opened. He blinked when nothing crashed, fell or ejected.
"A cleaned storage closet." Peter pulled on the light cord, pressing his hand against his friend's back. He smiled as the now shaded bulb cast a warm glow. "Step into my parlor."
Egon looked at Peter skeptically as he walked in. Peter closed the door behind them. Egon looked down, arching his eyebrow at the lump at the very back of the closet.
"It's not the Ritz..." Peter was halted from saying more by the lips settling over his mouth. It was a lingering kiss that ended before it could rage.
"That's very effective." A trace of a smile wisped around the long face. Deft fingers pulled at Peter's t-shirt, Egon leaning in again.
Peter reached up to get a handhold as palms ran up his sides, pushing the shirt above them. He whimpered slightly as he was pressed away, moaning as the shirt was skinned off.
Egon loosely quartered the shirt and tossed it out of the way before drawing Peter close.
Peter scrambled from the embrace to fumble with buttons. Egon stilled his hands, undoing the last few buttons and disposing of his own shirt in much the same way as he had Peter's.
"Shoes." Peter kneeled to unfurl the bedroll, then untied his shoes, flinging them aside. He gasped as Egon reached over him barechested to set his shoes in the far corner with the shirts. Peter dropped back onto the cushion as he was weighed down.
Peter's head lolled as the lethal lips latched onto the soft skin behind his ear. He luxuriated in the pilgrimage being made from one side to the other. Peter's arms were weak when they knitted into the blond coif over his sternum, holding the head in place.
Egon looked up.
It took Peter's breath away. He smiled lopsidedly as he smoothed a hand down Egon's side. "Better let me do some of the work." He shifted until he was half beside and half above Egon, leaning down to kiss him. Peter's hands stroked and rubbed down the down the arms and torso. He pulled away to look at the firm flesh he was limning. Why the taut muscles came as a surprise he didn't know. He knew the physicist's strength. The understated swells were hard under the fine skin. The major groups were defined yet transitioned smoothly into their neighbors, like a finely carved slab.
Then the firm hands were rolling him back and the lips resumed their tour of Peter's chest. He hitched his hands over the slim back and held on. The back of his fist went to his mouth as Peter stifled his moan as long fingers undid his fly and skinned off his pants. Long bare legs tangled with Peter's, the hot mouth engulfing his cry at the sensations.
Peter gasped as the lips trailed down his chin, neck and sternum. He was stunned silent as the mouth closed over a nipple. He started making a faint gargling sound when Egon moved to the other nub. Nothing was supposed to be this good. This certainly wasn't, yet it was. Very, very good. Peter sprawled in a haze of pleasure as the mouth traversed down.
Awareness burst, Peter's eyes going wide and his jaw dropping. He looked down, brain completely burning out at the sight of Egon swallowing him. Peter squeezed his eyes shut, hands clasped over the pale shoulders. He bobbed for an eternity-instant, utterly lost.
Peter blinked, noticing the hand over his mouth and the rather smug expression on the scientist's face, now beside him. He enmeshed his fingers with the longer ones, pulling the two hands down. A strange feeling teased at his attention. Sticky leg hair... He chuckled quietly, shaking his head as he rolled against Egon.
"Something wrong?" The arch improbability was laced with concern.
Peter laughed and kissed Egon just below the still in place blond coil. "How do you manage?" His fingers brushed along the roll. "I don't even want to think what mine looks like."
Egon's deep bass joined in, his fingers raking through the disheveled mop. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."
They lay together awhile longer, smiling and holding. Peter finally broke the silence. "We're going to have to get out of here." Lingering a little longer, he then stretched for the pile of clothes.
Two Days Dawned...
"Morning, Egon." Janine smiled coquettishly at the physicist descending the stairs.
He faltered slightly, a barely discernible hitch in his steps. "Janine."
"Something wrong?" She looked the lanky man over assessingly.
"No." He walked over to the desk. "What is the day's schedule?"
Perceptively the red-head noted the nervousness and plowed on as if she hadn't. "Nothing until eleven, sounds pretty harmless. From there it's a full day until 5pm."
"Good." Egon left the room, slightly too quickly.
Janine knitted her eyebrows.
"I thought we only took appointments 'til five." Peter looked away as the trap opened, holding the beam steady until the whoosh-slurp gave the all clear.
Another trap went out as Ray blasted. "We were still on the three o'clock at five." The light pulled down the ghost.
"Can we save the chatter?" Winston was being rushed by two ghosts, unable to trap either without letting the other through. Traps shot into place, a second beam containing the other ghost. Light fanned out, throwing the Ghostbusters into darkness as the double doors shut.
"We can go now." Egon shipped the thrower as the P.K.E. meter registered only residuals.
"It's official. Even Spengs wants to go home. Ray, call Guinness." Peter spared a look at the physicist.
Ray and Winston laughed as they wearily scooped up traps and exited the building.
"Something's wrong." Peter peered at Egon as if he could scry it from the other man's face.
Egon neither confirmed nor denied the statement.
"Going to make me play twenty questions for it?"
"Janine flirted with me this morning."
"She flirts with you every morning. Not that you notice." Peter smiled.
"I am more than aware that she is flirting."
Peter scanned for a place to sit down. Finally he hopped up on the workbench. "Okay. So what was the problem this morning?" The words rattled out a bit fast.
"Peter." Egon put a hand down over the knee.
The psychologist swallowed. "Answer the question."
"You know why."
"Pretend I don't." It was said just a little too lightly.
"Things have changed. Not that she would know... I haven't been in a situation like this."
"We established that earlier." The tension in Peter's voice was slipping through. He couldn't compete with Janine. His hand sneaked towards the long fingers still on his leg.
"Being involved and someone else being interested."
Peter blinked. "You sure that's accurate?" There were always a few ladies--
"I'm of course discounting those 'from afar' instances."
Peter's jaw dropped. "You knew?!" Some of the girls had been gorgeous.
"I'm not autistic." Egon breathed to regain his composure. "Don't think this is different because of your sex. That's really inconsequential."
"You implying something?" The quip didn't clear the tower. He knew it and he knew Egon knew it. Worst yet, he knew Egon knew he knew Egon knew it. Peter shook his head to clear the train of thought. "So I do think it's important." Peter jumped down, missing the warmth of the hand he dislodged as he stood. "A little anxiety is normal. Healthy even."
Egon looked at Peter intently.
"The American Psychological Association removed it as a pathology in '75. '75." Peter looked around anxious and uncomfortable. "Guess I should have slept through more of my lectures." He chuckled without humor.
"I didn't--" Egon's concerned words were stopped by fingers against his lips.
Peter traced over them. "Don't." It was a whisper. He slid the fingers out of the way to replace them with his lips. The kiss was gentle and teasing. "Change is good. Growth..."
"Which of us are you trying to convince?" Egon introduced some space between them within the embrace.
"Spengs. It's just my id and subconscious having a tiff. Nothing more."
Egon gave Peter an appraising eye.
"You really knew about the groupies?"
Egon chuckled in shock. "Yes, Peter."
"You okay about Janine?" His hands idled over the lean back.
"I'll manage." The hug tightened as Egon rested his face against Peter's head.
"Still have a grudge against the couch?"
Egon arched a brow and met Peter's eyes.
"I'm getting a crick in my neck."
"Very well." Egon's mouth stayed serious, but a twinkle was in his eyes as they went to the sofa.
"That's better." Peter rolled his head to one side and then to the other. A soft moan escaped as strong fingers kneaded at the tense muscles. "So, if..." Peter rolled his hand in a non-verbal yadda-yadda. "is so inconsequential, why was your first reaction to grab a P.K.E. meter?"
"Simply the most sensible thing to do. You were behaving oddly, and possession is never an impossibility--"
"What's my degree in?" Peter stilled the fingers on his shoulders, rubbing the knuckles.
"Because that's the only thing that isn't important. We've been friends for too long for me to risk that out of hand."
"And if one of us was possessed?"
"I keep bio-rhythm readings on all of us."
"I thought I was the only one with fear-based responses in relationships." Peter held on as Egon tried to pull away. "I'll say it. I love you. Loved you before, too, though I'm not going to say whether it was the same. Don't really know." Pete scooted on the couch. "Now, I know you're opposed to this couch, and I'd like a little more room--"
"Meet me in ten minutes." Egon disentangled, his bass smoky.
Peter's eyes widened in shock. He nodded as Egon looked back from the door.
Peter slipped unobserved into the small storage room. His breath hitched as Egon smoothly stood.
"Peter..."
The sentence that might have followed was consumed by the thorough kiss lavished on the silenced lips. Four arms reached out for an embrace, pulling the two impossibly close.
"Fun as this is, you're going to get tired holding me up."
"Never." They lowered to the flipped open bedding.
Leisurely, Peter explored with mouth and hands, pushing at clothing, but making no definitive moves against it. He held still in shock as first the long hands stopped on his back and the object of his obsessions slipped easily away.
"I had to put my glasses out of the way." Egon tried to resolve Peter's expression. "You might see them, but I surely wouldn't."
"Right." The word was tinged with sullenness.
"Peter." Egon cupped one side of the blurry face. After a moment he pressed a long finger to the nose quickly. He smiled at the confused expression.
Peter smiled disbelievingly. "Spengs." He launched forward, pushing Egon back. This time Peter was more goal oriented, clothing rout by the renewed sortie. He chuckled at the undecipherable sounds that slipped softly from Egon, eliciting greater frequency of them.
"Damn." Peter slid down. "We take off our shoes first thing from now on." The footwear thumped lightly thrice plus one as it was pulled off and tossed aside. He unceremoniously shed his pants. When Peter looked up, Egon had done similarly. "Where were we?" Surging over Egon, Peter answered his own question, plundering any attempted verbal reply.
They seethed together, Egon meeting Peter. Hands groped and clutched, hips rocked while mouths made twin orbits that crashed together erratically. Roiling, they fused into a rhythm, a building wave, amplitude careening into a dysynchronous event.
Muzzily, Peter regained awareness and started to shift aside. Arms tightened, holding him still.
"I'm not going to shatter." Egon threaded long fingers into Peter's tousled mop. "At most, decompress slightly."
Peter murmured pleasurably at the scalp massage. It revved into a near purr as the other hand joined the first. Then, he started chuckling.
Egon looked at him oddly.
"If you could see your hair." Peter tried to calm down, his hands smoothing at the demolished coiffure. Finding a hairpin, he sat it carefully aside. Further digging produced another. "So," Peter giggled as he found a third. "How many of these does it take to hold that up?"
"Your scientific curiosity finds a peculiar time to evidence."
"Like it was a question I could ask..." Peter looked at the small pile of metal growing at the corner of the pallet. "No wonder it stays put. Good thing ghosts aren't magnetic."
Egon bit off the clarifying lecture on his tongue. "That's your job." His umbrage turned when he realized Peter was no longer mining. He smiled wide at the blurry finger presumably counting the pins. "You're fascinated by the strangest things."
"I am." Peter finger combed at the blond hair to see just how it was cut. He grinned as the different lengths slid through his fingers. "Whatever possessed you?" Peter pushed the long top section back. He stroked through the sides, lips meeting Egon's. It was gentle and slow, Peter pulling back to end the kiss. "Can you reconstruct it without a mirror?" He slipped to the bedroll end to find his clothes. Half dressed he stood and plucked the red framed glasses from the shelf.
Egon took the proffered spectacles, unfolded and pushed them into place. Hair loose he found his clothes as Peter finished dressing. Pulling on his boxers and pants, Egon then readied his shirt. "Yes?"
Peter schooled away the smile. "Nothing." He leaned down for a quick kiss, deeper than the last. Peter pulled his hand away and slipped out the door.
Egon buttoned his shirt and picked up the pile of hairpins.
Later On...
Ray looked at Peter, puzzled. As much as the psychologist liked catnaps during the day, it was unusual for him to turn in so early. In truth, Peter's reluctance to wake in the morning was more than matched by his late retiring. If that wasn't odd enough, Peter's hair was very clearly wet again. They and part of Chinatown would have heard if Slimer had smacked into him. Strange.
Business continued to pick up speed, as it seemed to do every autumn swing to winter. The cycle of sleep and work was broken with decreasing down time and increasingly the moments between Peter and Egon had a stolen air. It was understandable that Winston, when he woke in the night, thought there was pressing research keeping Egon up at all hours in the lab. And equally understandable that no one noticed his peering in at Peter sleeping.
Peter still couldn't believe what a fantastic kisser Egon was. Stopping his hand before it plunged into the blond coif, Peter instead slipped it between them. He smiled at the muffled noise responding to his chest stroking. "Overdressed." Peter rubbed a bare toe across Egon's instep.
Practice made quick work of the clothes, fingers knowing how to drift past each other and not tangle. The glasses were placed on the shelf before the two smoothly descended onto the makeshift mattress, Peter pressed flat. Egon balanced on one arm, dragging the other hand over the musculature different from his own. As much as Peter tried to personify lassitude, he actually worked hard to stay in shape.
Peter rolled to his side, cleaving along Egon. Hips rolling, he kissed up the long jaw. The slow seduction roiled, their shifting advantage pendulous. Finally, using surprise as much as anything else, he flipped Egon. He smiled as the blue eyes tried to focus, leaning in to savor the promising mouth. Peter pulled away with difficulty, compensated by the quivers as he kissed down the long neck.
Carefully Peter trailed the sternum, pushing Egon's shoulders down. He captured one nub between his lips, his fingers rolling the other in time. Peter switched his attentions, then slipped lower down the angular torso. Amused by Egon's sigh, he nipped over a rib and kissed it better. Arms stretched before him to still the wound coil beneath him, he sucked at the taut stomach.
Finally Peter looked at his ultimate target. Hesitantly. He turned his attention back to the hip undividedly. With a last kiss, he pulled away. Peter exhaled, licked his lips and stretched them over his teeth before going down. His tentative approach became more impassioned as the odd noises Egon was making registered. Peter pulled his hands down to control the narrow hips under his face. He sighed in relief when the strong hands latched onto his shoulders and not his head. Judging the reaction, Peter tried it again. The sudden clench of both and eventual release of one of the hands strongly suggested approval. Peter went into overdrive to blow Egon's mind.
And was entirely successful.
Egon at length levered his limp hands into Peter's hair. The normally strong fingers and palms cradled the dark head, pulling up ever so slightly. Peter stayed pillowed on the flat stomach. "You bleach your hair, Spengs." Peter pushed himself up, head settling on a shoulder. He smiled, hitching slightly in building mirth. Egon looked at Peter in puzzlement, which only set Peter off further.
"Sorry." Peter bent to kiss away the perturbed set of Egon's mouth. The thought that maybe he shouldn't occurred just as their lips touched. It was scattered by the impassioned possession capturing mouth and head, the long fingers refreshed and clutching Peter close.
Peter looked up, tilting his head to one side and then the other. "Having trouble seeing it." He kissed Egon slowly before continuing. "When did you start bleaching it?"
"I'm not sure I should indulge this new interest of yours." His hands stroked Peter's back.
Peter relaxed into the trailing fingers, rolling his eyes at Egon's comment. "Why then?"
Egon looked at Peter. "It began with a laboratory accident."
"This was your time at Clariol?" Peter smiled apologetically.
Egon held his tongue for a moment and then continued. "Gradually the color returned with the new growth. I preempted a full resumption."
Peter looked down the lean body towards the tuft of honey-blond hair and then up again to the light blond coiffure. "I'm going to have to see pictures."
Days Dash By...
"What the HELL were you thinking, Doctor Spengler?!" Peter slammed Ecto-1's door, rocking the whole hearse. "You were thinking? Tell me you were thinking!"
"I'm sure Egon--" Ray halted mid-defense as Peter flashed him a incinerating glance.
"I'll discuss this once you're calm. Not one whit sooner." Egon measuredly removed his pack from Ecto and returned it to its place. "Winston, you'll put the traps into containment? I'll be in the lab." He walked up the stairs.
Peter fumed. "Of all the insufferable-- He nearly gets himselfkilled and he thinks I'm overreacting!"
Ray and Winston exchanged an expression. Concern colored with confusion.
"Melnitz, where do you think you're going?"
The petite red-head stopped and turned where she stood on the staircase. "Where do you think, Doctor V?"
"Leave it alone. Just leave him alone." Peter's words were quiet and a plea.
Egon opened the lab door, closing and locking it behind him. He didn't get as far as the stool, sliding down the door itself to sit on the floor. Thinking was exactly what he had been doing, distracting the Class 6 from terminating Peter. Which Peter hadn't even seen coming. Now he just wanted an irreverent remark to demonstrate that everything was okay. Or something.
It was ridiculous, this desire for confirmation of the obvious. Just as the ache in his arms to hold Peter in the night was unreasonable.
Why wasn't Peter knocking on the door yet? Egon pulled his long legs close to his body and wrapped his arms around them.
Of all the idiotic things for Egon to do! Peter paced in the space that loosely defined his office. Right now he could really go for some walls. Heaven knew where Janine had gotten off to; maybe gave herself the rest of the day off with pay. All things considered, that would be the best.
"Of course I'm not calm." His voice almost belied the statement. He whacked half-heartedly at his desk chair. Taunting the ghosts was Peter's job, not Egon's. Egon's job was to be brilliant, not die. "Don't you dare."
Peter dropped into the leather chair, hands clutching the armrests. "Who'd keep me together?" It was a whisper that barely carried to his own ears. "Does anything touch you?!" Had there been walls the words would have reverberated. How could Egon expect him to be calm?
"What crawled up and bit him?" Janine looked over towards Peter's office. "Is Egon okay?" She looked at Winston and Ray.
"It was hairy, but nothing that hasn't gone down before." Winston didn't want to worry Janine any more than she obviously already was. Truth was, Peter's reaction concerned him more. Close calls were part of their job. They all understood that; Peter certainly did.
"It was almost like Egon pulled a Peter." Ray thought about the implications of the analogy. "You know how he hates his thunder stolen." Quickly he continued. "We were on the spectre before anything could happen. They're just shook up."
"You've been around Venkman too long. Give it to me straight." Janine planted herself in front of the occultist, arms across her chest.
"I'm not sure what is going on." The way he said it made clear he would find some answers.
Janine looked up the staircase. She turned back to Ray and Winston. "I'm going out for half an hour. I'll shuffle the rest of the appointments when I get back." She dashed to grab her coat and purse, and then slipped out the door.
Ray and Winston turned as Peter's voice lifted, spilling out from his office area. "Does anything touch you?!" They looked at each other and headed upstairs.
Winston was worried when neither Egon nor Peter had surfaced before Janine poked in upstairs to tell them about their early morning busts. It was unusual for them to be so stubborn at the same time. "No, stubborn in the same way." One in a funk had the equal and opposite reaction of the other dragging him out. Clearly Ray thought it was strange too. Winston set to the practical task of cooking a meal guaranteed to attract even the unmovable object. "Wonder who's turn it is?" He snorted lightly at the thought.
Ray puzzled at the permutations of his earlier analogy of Egon pulling a Peter. Peter had three primary motivations for seemingly foolhardy action: bait, deflection and stall. The first was out. They hadn't set a snare for the Class 6. Similarly, they weren't having equipment failure or waiting to regroup. That pretty much negated the third. They'd had things under control, hadn't they? "Egon saw something we didn't." Ray headed for the kitchen.
"Hey, that smells great." Ray peeked under one lid. "What's the occasion? Oh, I think I've figured it out. What could Egon have noticed that we didn't?"
Winston thought about it. "Sorry, even the 20/20 of hindsight--" His dark face stilled. "Peter usually..."
"Has the Spidey-sense." Ray pulled out a chair and dropped. "You don't think..."
"That Spengler was pulling his fat out of the fire?" Winston mulled his words. "Certainly fits."
Ray was quiet for a moment. He spoke just as Winston did. "Shit."
Egon and Peter pulled themselves from their respective lairs for dinner, though neither spoke to the other. Winston saw them glance at each other peripherally several times,as if they were making sure the other didn't need him. How'd they tell with their poker faces up, Winston didn't know. At least neither tried hurrying from the table.
Winston tried to get some reaction from them. "We're going to have an early morning tomorrow."
Ray looked at Egon and Peter, wishing one to budge the other. "Janine rescheduled the busts. Um, I'll get started on the dishes." He started to clear the table, Winston giving a hand.
"You're not going to do that again." Peter's words were balanced between question and command.
Egon met Peter's eyes. Finally he spoke. "Don't ask that." Egon stood slowly from the table and exited.
"Damn you." Peter punctuated it by slapping the table before leaving.
Peter barged into the lab. "Okay, here's your control. Now, what the hell was that about because I'm not losing you tomorrow." The door banged shut loudly behind Peter in the middle of his speech.
Egon looked at Peter, silent. "My control?"
Peter walked over. "What's going on? You know how I hate being left out of a secret."
"Nothing."
"Right. Good thing you're a horrible liar, or that would have hurt." Peter assessed the hint of shock. "Spill it, Spengs."
"If the situation were the same I'd do it again." Egon stared at Peter, willing him to drop the matter.
"How can I prevent the situation if I don't know what it is?! Do you have any idea what that was like before we got it in our beams?" Peter shook slightly with the memory, the horrible fear that they were too late.
"Yes." The answer was thick.
Words stuck in Peter's throat. Finally he managed, "You're saying--"
Egon wrapped Peter tightly in an embrace. "Didn't happen." His hand cupped the dark-haired skull, cradling it as they clutched each other.
Ray looked over, first at Peter and then at Egon. Even for the day they'd had, something didn't seem quite right as they slept. Exactly what he didn't know. Yet. He closed his eyes, sure that whatever it was would become apparent.
Had he'd stayed awake for only a half hour more, Ray would have seen Egon reach out, as if searching for something. Egon thrashing about in his sleep, however quietly, was unusual. Instead, Egon was unseen and uninterrupted. Unsuccessful in his search, he drew up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. Mollified, his slumber smoothed.
"Tell me this is the last one." The sizzle of another completed job hung in the air. Winston could barely keep track of how many busts they'd done. It had been a full schedule before the remaining busts of the preceding day were added. Ecto was filled with loaded traps.
Ray smiled and clapped a hand on Winston's shoulder. "Just Peter writing the bill."
Peter took his cue and pulled out the pad of receipts and started working up the charges as he exited.
Ray noticed the strange distracted, concentrated effect. "Wasn't today great!" His concern deepened when Peter made no cracks.
Winston laughed. "Don't change, Ray." He looked over at Peter and Egon. Something was still wrong.
The Next Night...
Peter poked his head into the lab. He started to enter when Egon turned from his work. The briefly unshuttered look threatened to melt him on the spot. Peter managed to cast out an invitation. Accepting the nod, he left to wait.
Egon wrapped up the current phase of research as expediently as possible. Done, he slipped from the lab and headed for the storage room. He casually opened the door and stepped inside, the door snicking shut.
Peter was standing barefoot, imperfectly nonchalant. His attitude was changed as Egon gathered him possessively. He quickly rallied, throwing himself into the bond. Frantically they searched each other for sites of conquest. Clothes were tossed aside and fell, Egon's shoes nearly torn off. Peter fell heavily to the mat, Egon propelling him. Campaign and counter-campaign waged fiercely.
Peter refocused, feeling Egon pulling away. Peter held Egon tightly until the tension spilled away. He wasn't prepared for the shudder. His hands smoothed soothingly over the lean frame. Egon wrapped his arms around Peter. "Spengs..." Peter stroked the nape of the long neck, pressing a kiss behind the ear.
Ray kept an observant eye out, uncertain of what exactly he was seeking. His conclusion was unexpected. At first, he hadn't thought too much about his unsuccessful searches for Peter or Egon. Until he realized that they were disappearing at the same time. Even then his first presumption was that they had a prank or pranks in the works.
Peter with a bundle of blankets that he actually took all the way to the washer and ran immediately punctured that theory. At least introduced an anomalous data point. That the folded blankets (an occurrence which almost struck Ray blind) were promptly marched upstairs and disappeared, encouraged further curiosity. A moving target, such as Peter or Egon, had many options for being unobserved in the firehouse. An object or objects at rest shouldn't be so difficult to locate.
That was how he'd started looking at the storage closet. After looking at all of the places that were likely, and then even unlikely for the blankets to have gone, he was left with the closet. Ray found it locked.
It was a conundrum that prompted further investigation. The 'evidence' was almost innocuous, until one figured in Egon and Peter's strange behavior. The conclusion he came to was unexpected to say the least.
"Winston, I think they're involved."
"Who are what?" Winston looked up from his book.
"Have you noticed anything odd about Egon or Peter?"
"That is a trick question." Winston smiled, and became more serious as he noted Ray's consternation. He slipped a bookmark in, setting the book aside. "You think they're still shook up about that bust?" Winston still didn't exactly understand that exchange. Peter acting like he had a monopoly on leaping into the breach.... Usually Egon deflated Peter's tirades faster.
"Do you? No, well, it started with that-- I guess it would sort of explain it."
"Lay it on me."
"I believe they are sleeping together."
Winston finally blinked. "That's a very dangerous practical joke with Janine around." Winston watched the confusion bloom on Ray's face. "That was the plan, getting me in on a joke on the guys?"
Ray's expression didn't change. "I wonder how long. Why wouldn't they tell us?"
Winston quickly realized how convinced Ray was. "Um, how did you deduce this? I don't want to know, do I?"
Ray was perplexed. "Should we let them know we know?"
"Do we know? Look, if we're wrong, Peter will never let us off the hook. If not, then they have a reason for not telling us. Right?"
"I guess..."
"Good." Winston resolved to put the question to rest.
A Few Days Later...
Okay, that was not the answer he expected. Hearing the unmistakable sounds... Winston meditated on the undercarriage of Ecto, as he fine-tuned the Detroit classic. He could decide that it was Egon and Janine in the closet. Except he saw her leave, and she was driving her Bug today. She barely liked parking it outside; no way would she move it further from the firehouse. Not to mention that he couldn't see Egon--
He not-thought that image away. It was disturbing enough for Ray to be right without putting pictures on the other side of that door. Question was, what were they going to do about it?
There were really only two options: ignore it or confront.
Another Night...
Peter cracked an eyelid, peering over to Egon asleep in his bed. If you could call the tossing to and fro sleep. Looked more like aerobics. Peter closed his eye as he heard the definitive creak. Clearly Egon agreed with his assessment and was getting up. Peter waited through the barely perceivable rustle before the slippered footfalls fell and receded.
Peter got up and followed. He halted at the door to the living room. In the still dim room, Egon's hair stood in high relief from the reflected light. Finally the framed eyes turned. Peter slipped into the room.
Egon's face was lined with worry. Peter sat. He almost started to talk several times before Egon finally did.
"The phase-variance modulation is causing me some consternation."
"Nice to know you've been paying attention. Always steal from the best." Peter looked at Egon. "What's really the problem?"
"The amplitude feedback fluctuates..."
Peter waited for Egon to give up the pretense. "How long has it been going on?"
"A few weeks. It's not that the cases have been taxing. Numerous, but not exceptional. Research is going smoothly, beyond the normal nuisances. Things are practically pacific."
"Something's making waves. Talk to me, Spengs. Janine hasn't been bugging you?"
Egon peered at Peter puzzled. "No." Egon pondered. "Should I have noticed something?"
"You have no idea what might be the problem?"
"Beyond a proximity impulse? That's hardly anything to lose sleep over."
Proximity... "Care to elaborate on this impulse?" Peter tried again. "When does this impulse manifest?"
"I hardly see the importance--"
"That's why you're the physicist and I'm the psychologist." Peter reined in his temper. "Impulses are my specialty."
Egon bit back a rejoinder. "Well, I only notice it at night. It's not dominant enough to interfere with other responsibilities."
"Just how proximal?" Peter reached out to Egon. "Doesn't the timing suggest something to you?"
Egon blinked. "Coinciding events of differing orders are not causal."
"Give it to me in English. What pent-up desires do you have rattling the wheel?"
Egon looked straight at Peter. "To sleep with you."
Peter tried to find the hidden complexity in the terse statement. "Try it one more time, slowly." Peter clutched a knee before Egon could rise from the couch. "Egon, I'm missing something here, aren't I?"
"It's not important." Egon tried to peel away the clasped hand. Instead it grasped his.
"Can't agree. That the only time you want to sleep with me?" Peter looked at the perplexed expression. Finally it hit him. "You mean you want to sleep with me."
Egon arched a brow.
Peter placed his fingers against the lips. "Spengs." What could he say? Wordlessly he pulled Egon tight to him. Resistance reluctantly relaxed. Holding the spare frame, Peter tried desperately to figure out how to set this straight.
Later That Week...
"Ray, you got a moment?" Winston had made a decision, and tonight he was going to take advantage of Peter and Egon's errands.
"Sure. What's up?" Ray regarded his friend seriously.
"You were right. I'm going to need your help." Winston walked away, heading for the bunkroom.
Ray followed. "Right?"
Winston didn't stop until he stood at the stripped four-poster. "They are involved. Help me move this."
Ray looked at Winston in confusion.
"Look, we don't have a lot of time. Let's get this moved into the guest room. Ray?"
"That's Peter's bed."
"Right, let's get it moved before Pete and Egon get back." Winston started the disassembly. As he expected, Ray pitched in quickly.
"What happened to letting them tell us?"
Winston exhaled. "We depend on each other. Secrets are corrosive. Do you really think they should have to sneak off to a storage closet?"
Ray's enthusiasm increased exponentially. Winston wished he could be so positive.
They'd hardly got the guest bed into the bunkroom when Egon returned. His trajectory was direct to the lab, oblivious to his colleagues' labors. By the time that Peter came in, Ray and Winston were comfortably in the living room.
Peter headed for the bunkroom, figuring that he'd think better alone. His eyes widened. "Where is my bed?" In the place of his four-poster was the twin from the guestroom. Complete with the tucked in plastic cover to minimize Slimer damage. Peter headed back downstairs.
"Okay. Which one of you hatched this?" Peter looked at his suspects.
"Hatched what?" Winston didn't even bother to look up from his book.
"Who's been stealing my bed?"
"We moved it." Ray looked over at Peter.
"You moved it. Where did you move it to? Why did you move it?"
Winston answered succinctly. "Peter. We know about you and Egon."
Peter blanched. "Know?"
"That's why we moved your bed. So you'd have a room." Ray smiled.
Peter tried to say something. "So I'd have a room... Know--"
"It's your home, too. So, now you have a room. Together." Winston hoped it was a wrap.
"Hey, we're good friends, but this is taking it to extremes..." Peter looked at Winston and Ray exchanging glances. "Very close friends." Peter shrugged. "Tell me I've not been obvious."
"Just like always. Took forever to piece it together."
Egon came downstairs, noticing the three conversing only after crossing to the shelf. Peter looked at him pleadingly, while Winston looked vaguely uncomfortable. Only Ray was his usual, cheerful, self. "Ray, something is up."
"It's great about you and Peter."
His finger tipped the book onto its spine. His slack face drained to almost match his hair. "Peter."
"It's not how I'd have chosen." Peter turned his head slightly, otherwise rigid. A brittle stance, almost expectant of another blow.
Ray looked at his friends, puzzled. They should be happier than this. Shouldn't they?
"What else could we do?" Winston looked at his friends. He headed off for the bunkroom.
Peter didn't even notice Ray leave. "We'll talk in our room." Peter reached out a hand for Egon's back, though it didn't quite land. Egon walked just a little ahead of him until they were upstairs. Peter headed for the former guestroom.
Inside was his bed alright, a stack of his linens in the middle and Egon's nightstand at the foot. "Which side you want?" Peter went to the opposite side of the bed as Egon started making it up, doing that half. Finished, Peter sat down. "Talk to me, big guy."
"I'll get our things." Egon slipped out the door. Evenly he walked to the bunkroom and stepped inside. Winston had already turned in, rolled facing the wall. Ray was still sitting up. He ignored the younger man as he gathered first one of his nightshirts and then a set of Peter's pajamas.
Peter looked up as the door opened again, watching as a set of his pajamas was placed beside him. "Spengs."
Egon threaded buttons from buttonholes. Peter turned, stripping out of his clothes and pulling on his pjs.
"Say something."
"Right." Egon picked up the nightstand and positioned it to the right side.
Peter shuttled over the bed to stand on the same side. "Are you okay with this?"
Egon pulled off his glasses, setting them on the stand. "Let's get some sleep." He flipped back the blankets, waiting.
"You going to leave your hair up?" Peter tic-cringed at the words. In all the years they'd been roommates Egon had done exactly that.
Egon sat down. "You do it."
It took Peter a moment to get the meaning of the words. He leaned over, trying to find the first pin to remove. They became progressively easier to locate, the hair spilling down. Peter swallowed. Not that it looked bad. Just... more... different. It was the only word he could come up with. It looked great. Egon looked great. "Wow."
Egon reached up for one of Peter's hands. A small smile budded, eyes searching the blurred face. "Come to bed."
Peter shook himself slightly. "Um, yeah." Peter knee-ed into the bed, rolling the rest of the way onto his side.
Egon swung his legs up and slid down before pulling the covers over. He stretched out a hand to catch the switch beside the bed. He rolled onto his left side, his right arm finding Peter.
Peter turned into the embrace, hooking his arm over. "Comfy?"
Egon shifted closer, brushing a kiss against Peter's neck. "Yes."
A grin spread across his face. Me, too, Spengs.
The End.
Frameless?
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