The living room was quiet as it swelled and panned, the couch and chairs empty, the TV dark. No one was in the kitchen either, no plates out on the bobbing table. The hallway slid past, one floor dropping away to be replaced by another.
The bunkroom. Three beds were ignored; the fourth didn't belong. The seams of the plastic cover crept by unevenly, the chenile flowers but blobs of color receding as the room spun and was replaced by the hall and the growing door.
Spplat.
Slimer hovered on the other side of the door, "Ppw" uncompleted. Peter was there, back pale above Egon, holding him down.
Peter shifted his hips and they groaned together. Egon pulled Peter down closer, levering himself up for a kiss. Neither noticed the small puddling goo noise as Slimer zipped back through the door.
The floors hurtled by before opening into the large main floor, Slimer diving under Ecto after the pair of boots.
Winston slid out, wiping an arm across his mouth as the green ghost pulled at his shirt blithering unintelligibly. "Ray!"
Ray looked out of the workroom and hurried over, setting something on Janine's desk as he passed. "What is it Slimer? Slow down just a bit."
Winston sat up now that Slimer wasn't right on him, using a clean oil rag to better wipe his face. Giving up on his shirt, he peeled it off. Mopping his chest with the back he let it drop wetly.
"Peter and Egon are fighting?" Ray looked like he wasn't happy with the translation.
"Ray." Winston shook his head, closing his eyes. Now he could make out what Slimer was saying. Like a sped-up record with a scratch skipping it into repeat. "That's enough." Ray looked like he was about to go upstairs. "Ray." Finally, he leaned over and whispered into the redhead's ear.
Ray flushed to match his hair. "Slimer, it's okay. They aren't mad at each other."
Slimer looked between Ray and Winston. The smiling and the stern expressions the one and other had confused him. "Not mmaaad?"
"No." Winston grimaced, itching at the drying sheen of slime. "They're not." He headed upstairs muttering about getting first shower.
Ray watched Winston's retreat and back at Slimer. "Let's get food." Ray grabbed his coat and keys, herding Slimer out the door.
Peter stopped at the kitchen door, looking at the white boxes. Egon slid past without question, helping himself to food.
"Peeter!" Slimer just barely stopped before hitting Peter, wringing his hands together instead of hugging.
"Hi, Spud." Peter looked at the other three, mostly Ray and Winston, switching between them trying to figure out which episode of the Twilight Zone he'd stepped into. This time.
Winston looked over. "Pete, you need to have the talk with him."
"Talk?" Peter looked between Slimer and Winston.
"Peeter not mad?" Slimer looked over to Egon. "Still fwiends?"
Peter's eyes widened and his mouth gaped. "You didn't. Did you fly through the door?" He glared at the ectoplasmic mass.
Slimer quivered, bobbing up and down.
"Egon." Peter measured the word out carefully.
"Slimer, refrain from entering that room. Peter, sit down and eat."
Peter was silent. "That little ball of snot slammed into our room! Where's a trap?" He turned to leave the kitchen.
"Peter! He didn't mean anything by it." Ray gave Slimer an encouraging glance. "You went into the bunk room, didn't you?" Ray turned to Peter, ignoring the drops of ectoplasm Slimer shed. "Bet he was worried when he didn't see your bed."
Peter was speechless, looking from Ray, to Winston, to Egon.
"Is mad. Vvvrrry maad." Slimer muttered increasingly incomprehensible, spattering goo agitatedly.
"Peter." Egon addressed himself instead to the ghost. "Slimer, there is nothing to worry about, Peter is just upset. Refrain from entering closed rooms in the future. I can't believe you haven't worked up an appetite, Peter."
Peter flashed his eyes at Egon and then the other two men before settling himself behind a plate and serving himself.
Ray looked between Peter and Egon at one end of the table and Winston across it. Despite Winston's expression, Ray broke the silence. "Could you pass the curry?"
Peter looked at the hovering ball of slime, with a deep desire to trap himself and wait to be loaded into containment. "Um, Slimer. Look."
Slimer peered closely, nearly pressing against Peter's face.
Peter closed his eyes, screwing up his courage. "Egon and I have hooked up. Made a love connection and we weren't fighting."
"Not mad? Peeter and Egon stwill fwiends?" Slimer looked around anxiously.
Peter scrubbed at his hair. "Egon and I are very good friends. And I don't want you interrupting us. Private time means alone, got it?"
"Peeter isss mad."
"Yeah, I am. Stay out of my and Egon's room." Peter paced.
Slimer twisted, his face misshapen with thought. After some time he spoke. "Peeter and Egon kissieface?"
Peter turned back to the ghost. "Yeah. Me and Egon kissieface."
"Pweeter and Egon not mad!" Spluttering much less interpretable comments, Slimer gave Peter a big hug and zipped out of the room.
Peter wiped the goo off his face, smiling at the sound of the others getting slimed.