NC 17 - SLASH FICTION - A pointless romp through the possibilities and difficulties involved in having an affair with a work colleague when you both live together with two others, when the "family pet" is an entity from the Netherworld, when you're all sharing the same lounge, kitchen and bedroom, and when your day-job is catching ghosts.
(GB/RGB fandoms)

NOTE: Okay, here's the deal, I have a problem slashing the cartoon, but the relationships in the RGB fiction are more likely to promote this situation (from a slash writer's POV anyway). So if you merge the relationships in the cartoon (and possibly in other writers' stuff), with the real live Egon, Pete, Ray, Winston, and the ILM sfx Slimer, we'll get on okay. Thanks for listening. And please don't read this if you have a problem with it, I get VERY upset when people do this. - Yours, The author.

(1) Lyrics for "Show Me Heaven", song words and music copyright M.McKee, J.Rifkin, E.Rackin
(2) "Piano Song", words by Erasure

Show Me Heaven
by elfin

("...I'm not denying I'm frightened as much as you,
though I'm barely touching you...") (1)

Doctor Egon Spengler sighed deeply as he gazed around the empty kitchen. Usually, by this time, Winston would be up cooking breakfast, and Ray would be hovering around the doorway, waiting for the eggs to be ready, fighting off Slimer for pole position in the race to the table. The sounds of Peter Venkman banging about upstairs, complaining about the "ungodly time of the morning you horrible rabble always get up" would be echoing down.

But four men practically living together twenty-four hours a day was not overly healthy, and every three months, they took a week off, the idea being to get away from each other. As usual, Winston was visiting his parents, predictably, Ray was off at a convention, even Slimer seemed to have vacated the premises for a while. Egon had been surprised that Peter had stayed around, although he couldn't understand why, because the psychologist had enough invites trying to draw him away from the city. He guessed it might have something to do with the fact Egon himself had only been out of hospital three weeks after being very badly injured at a bust two months ago. Since then, Peter had been very protective, making sure Egon followed the doc's orders to rest. Then again, it may have also been because of a girl that Peter had only recently started seeing. He'd actually been out on a date the previous night, and hadn't yet returned.

Egon glanced at his watch - the man probably wasn't even awake yet. He padded across the cold floor and switched on the kettle. He briefly considered just throwing some bread in the toaster, but since they'd filled it with slime to get it to dance, the resulting toast hadn't tasted quite right. Egon caught his breath as an image flashed through his mind. Why on earth they'd ever told Peter that he'd slept with that stuff, Egon would never know. A perverse joke - an attempt at humour so subtle that it had backfired. And the look in Peter's eyes.... Egon banished the thoughts, mentally shaking himself.

He made himself a coffee, and was just replacing the kettle when he heard the garage door slam shut. Looking up, he was treated to the sight of an exhausted Peter striding across the floor. He opened his mouth to say good morning, but at that instant Peter reached the kitchen door and looked up. The expression on his face was indefinable, even to Peter's closest, oldest friend.
"Good date?" Peter didn't answer, just let his eyes linger on Egon's face for a while, until the physicist became concerned. "Peter, are you okay?" Finally Peter nodded - whatever his expression had been, altered slightly, and Egon realized that the tiny amount of anger that had been there, had now gone, replaced by a rare display of open affection. A moment later, Peter headed on upstairs, leaving a confused Egon standing in the kitchen.

Peter slumped down on his own bed. What a night! He didn't even want to admit to himself what he'd done, until he'd seen Egon standing in the kitchen, innocent and confused. Then he'd realized that there was little wonder that it had happened. Living so close, with such an intense, intimate friendship Peter ruefully had to admit to himself that it was surprising it hadn't happened earlier. He closed his eyes, pushing away the images from the dream that still hung in his mind. He needed a shower.

It was several minutes later that Egon was risen from his thoughts by Peter's high-pitched scream. He almost dropped his coffee mug onto the table and took the stairs two at a time. Egon came to a skidding stop just outside the bathroom, to be met with the sight of a very wet Peter Venkman, towel around his waist, shivering.
"What? Are you okay?" Annoyance flared in Peter's eyes before he deflated, unable to blame Egon for his sudden shock.
"I think we've lost power."

Egon was smiling to himself as he descended into the basement. Peter was right, the emergency generator had cut in for the containment grid, but the rest of the firehouse was cut off.
"I'll go and get some supplies," Egon shouted up as he opened the garage door, "I doubt we're the only ones."
He turned to go and stopped. Outside it was white. Snow had covered everything and was still falling. Egon blinked against the sudden brightness. Ray would love this, he thought happily. The general store also had no power but their own emergency generator for the freezer units. Egon found some candles, in case this state was going to last all day, and snagged a large pack of Twinkies. He could think of no better way than spending the day on the sofa with some latest research papers munching Twinkies. He picked up a few other bits to keep them going, and wandered up to the counter. "Oscar the Grouch", as Ray affectionately called the store owner, gave Egon a toothy grin.
"You out too, Doc?" Egon nodded. "So we in any danger of being swamped by ghosts?" He winked, trying to push the sarcasm. But Egon shook his head, missing it or simply ignoring it.
"The emergency generator is more than sufficient to run the containment grid, I assure you."
Oscar merely grunted.

***

Not long after Egon returned to the firehouse, Peter left, muttering that there was someone he had to see and shouldn't Egon be resting. Egon watched him go, concerned now. Peter had seemed to enjoy hanging around the firehouse these passed few days. Maybe his date hadn't gone well last night and he was going back to apologize. As the door closed behind the psychologist, the firehouse fell silent. Egon suddenly felt profoundly alone. Usually there was always someone or something (in Slimer's case) about. Even if it was just Janine typing in reports or bills.

Now, the quiet was punctuated only by the distant whining of the generator, locked away in the basement. Egon took his research papers and his Twinkies and sat himself down on the sofa. Five hours later, he was still there, snuggled into one corner for warmth, the now empty packet of Twinkies on the seat beside him, and his mind dedicated to the question of what he could use around here to warm milk for a hot chocolate.

Egon spent the rest of the day experimenting. It was gone nine when he heard Peter come back and head straight upstairs. He was more than concerned now. He was seriously worried that he'd done or said something, or forgotten to do or say something, and that he'd upset Peter because of it. He had finally managed to produce two steaming hot chocolates, and quietly he took them upstairs.

Peter was sitting on his bed, still fully dressed, blankets pulled up around him, staring across the room. Egon silently walked over to his friend. "Peace offering?" he murmured. Peter looked up and when he saw the mug being proffered a true smile lit his face.
"Spengs, how did you manage that?" He wrapped his fingers through the handle, brushing against Egon's hand as he took the drink. Egon smiled warmly, "Secret." He indicated the bed. "May I?"
Peter nodded. "You don't have to ask."
Egon settled himself next to Peter, relieved and content when Peter offered him some blanket. They sat for a short time in companionable silence, each enjoying the warmth of the Spengler-special. Then a frown crossed Peter's face. "Why did you say this was a peace offering?"
"You seem to have been avoiding me all day. I thought..."
Peter cut him off, "You thought you'd done something wrong." Egon nodded. "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed some time to myself." He looked across at his slim friend. "It was nothing you did, Spengs." His voice dropped to a more gentle tone. "Why do you always think you've done something to upset one of us?"
Egon met the questioning gaze. "I'm always so caught up with my work, I worry that I've missed something."
"Spengs, you haven't missed one of our birthdays in all the time we've been working together! You even remember the anniversary of Ghostbusters, which is more than I ever do. If anyone's upset around here, you're the least likely to be the cause. You're so easy-going, so patient with us all, even me." Peter took a sip of his drink. "And you make *the* most amazing hot chocolate."
That made Egon smile. Comfortable now, he shifted closer to Peter, trying to share some bodily warmth in the rapidly decreasing temperature. "No one has electricity for eight blocks, and yet you hand me a mug of hot chocolate." Peter looked up from his mug, his eyes and tone softening. "We're lucky to have you, you must know that." Egon almost blushed. He wasn't certain what had brought all this on, but it was definitely not what he'd been expecting to hear when he'd come upstairs. And Peter's words of simple affection, as always, warmed him.

They talked for some time, Peter lightening up, content to have Egon there, close by. After a while, he held up his empty mug and inquired if there was any more where it had come from. Egon said there was, as long as he was willing to wait for a quarter of an hour, and as long as Egon didn't hear Peter's footsteps during that time. "No peeking." The tall man warned as he wriggled out from under the blankets. Peter promised to stay where he was and watched Egon leave. He felt the cool air creep into the space that Egon had left, and pulled the blankets closer around him, partly to keep out the draft, partly to keep the covers warm for Egon's return. Egon had gone downstairs, in the dark, out from the warm confines of the bed, just to make Peter another hot drink. He sighed when he thought that friends like Egon were very hard to find, he knew how lucky he really was. Another image from his dream flashed across his mind. "Oh Spengs..." he heard his own whisper, felt the affectionate nick-name on his lips. He'd called Egon that from the moment they'd met.

So many people made fun of Egon when they'd been at college. Peter guessed that he must have acquired the nick-name "Igor" quite early on, because Peter's term of endearment for him had brought forth a welcoming, thankful smile. During the early years of their friendship they had each given the other two a lot. Ray had brought a youthful freshness to the little group, Peter had brought popularity and with it, safety. Egon had brought calm reassurance, an unnerving confidence that had rubbed off on the others. And to Peter, Egon had brought a close, unwavering friendship that had fought its way through good and bad to get to where it was now. It was the most intimate friendship Peter had ever shared with anyone; he'd told things to Egon he wouldn't have told to anyone else in the whole world, and he'd lost count of the times he'd been relieved that Egon was there for him.

Only one thing they hadn't shared, Peter reflected. And that was the thing that he'd dreamt about last night, that was the reason he'd woken in the state he had, with Egon's name on his lips. He'd been surprised and shocked, and when he'd seen Egon in the kitchen this morning, he'd been angry at himself too. He'd spent all day being angry with himself, until he'd stopped to think. Sitting in Central Park watching the FBI agents feed the ducks, he'd come to the professional conclusion that his mind had substituted Egon into his dreams because he hadn't been around anyone else so much for so long before. So Peter had explained away the reasons, but not the residual feelings that accompanied the remaining images that periodically flashed through his mind.

Ten minutes later, Spengs returned, two steaming mugs of the chocolate drink in his hands. This time, Peter felt the chilled skin of his friend's fingers when he took his mug. "Aw, Spengs, you're freezing. Get in here."
Peter threw open the blankets, and Egon climbed in beside him, leaning back against the headboard, shoulder to shoulder with Peter, snuggling up more easily and readily this time. Peter took a sip of the hot liquid. "I don't know what you've got set up down there Egon, but this tastes fantastic."
"It's only because it's so cold out of the blankets, Peter." Venkman smiled, acknowledging the biggest difference between them, Egon's inability to take compliments, something Peter had no trouble with. In the following silence, they heard the business line ring twice, then the answer machine click in. "We apologize, but Ghostbusters is closed for this week. Please leave your name and number, and we'll get back to you. Close the door to the room containing the manifestation and don't go in there until we call. Thank you."

"Do you ever wander what people did before we started the business?"
Egon looked thoughtful, like the question had never entered his mind. After a while, he said, "Exorcisms."
Peter almost choked on his cocoa. "Exorcisms? Surely you don't believe in those."
Egon frowned. "There is proof that sometimes the holding of that particular religious ceremony can lay some spirits to rest." He sipped his drink. "There again, there are many ceremonies that will lay particular ghosts to rest. Not necessarily just religious ones."
Peter heard the words, but somehow he knew Egon was saying more than he actually voiced. He cocked his head to look across at his friend and met that deep blue gaze. For a moment, something passed between them that, Peter knew, they would never talk about. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd felt it - as if Egon was trying to tell him something, almost on a subconscious level. Peter had thought about a lot over the last few months, as it happened with increasing frequency. He wasn't sure that Egon was even aware he was trying to say, whatever it was he was trying to say. But it was there. And one day, surely, it would have to come out, one way or another.

("...the deeper I delve into the consciousness of me with you, the harder it gets, I need to close my eyes...") (2)

Peter carefully took the mug from Egon's fingers. "You look shattered, Spengs. Bed time." Egon blinked, he must have fallen asleep here, sitting against Peter's warmth. He glanced at his watch, it was gone midnight. Egon looked over to his own, cold bed, and nodded.
"Okay."
He started to kick the blanket away from his feet and was stopped by a hand on his arm. "You can stay here," Peter said simply. "I wouldn't say no to some extra warmth tonight. With no heating it'll get colder before it gets warmer."
Egon smiled. He kicked his shoes off, folded his glasses onto the locker and snuggled down under the covers. Peter turned his back to his friend, leaning down to place the mugs on the floor. "I'm bound to stand on those at some point tonight." He grouched quietly. Egon waited for Peter to settle before turning over and pressing his own back along the length of Peter's. It wasn't long before both men were snoring soundly.

Peter awoke to several sensations. The first was warm breath on the back of his neck. He peered around to see that Egon had twisted over in the night and was pressed up against him, his face lightly buried in Peter's hair. A smile touched the psychologist's lips. The second realization was a hard notch pressing into his lower back. It took a few moments for Peter to work out what it was, and when he did, he almost laughed out loud.
"Spengs," he pitched his voice to wake Egon gently. "Spengs. Wake up."
Egon awoke, stretched and froze. It took all of a second for the situation, and his own physical state, to register. He was mortified. He shifted back, clambering out of the bed, away from Peter, muttering his apologies. Peter turned over, a little surprised at the intensity of Egon's reaction. He read the horror in his friend's expression to his own shock.
"Spengs, hey, it's okay...."
"God, Peter, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
Peter reached out to stop Egon, but he'd already grabbed his glasses and made a swift beeline for the bathroom. Peter sighed. "That was well handled, Doctor Venkman", he muttered, "naught out of ten for tact." He crawled out of bed, groaning as he stepped onto the mugs he'd placed on the floor last night. He strode across the bedroom, across the hall and stopped outside the bathroom. Quietly, he knocked on the door. "Spengs, come on, it's all right, I completely understand. A warm body and all that. I don't mind. Hey, I'm flattered."
But all Peter could hear in reply was a mortified sobbing, as Egon apologized over and over.

Feeling it was best to give him some space, Peter pretended to busy himself in his office for an hour or two before trying to approach Egon. His friend's almost violent reaction this morning had worried him. It was a natural occurrence, Egon had nothing to be ashamed of and nothing to be sorry about, and the fact that he thought he did stirred some emotion in Peter that he could not define. At just gone eleven, Peter's professional curiosity got the better of him and he found Egon at the kitchen table, sipping coffee. He approached as nonchalantly as he could, but Egon still looked as if he wanted to bolt the moment he saw him. "I gather the electricity's back on." Egon nodded, his ever-apologetic expression upsetting Peter all the more because, in a way. he'd been the one in that position yesterday, and he hadn't felt any remorse, simply the old Peter Venkman anger. Peter pulled out the chair opposite his friend and sat down. "It's okay, Spengs, honestly." His voice and his eyes conveyed his deep feeling, but Egon's expression did not change, and Peter knew he was going to have to emphasis the point. He reached over and took Egon's hand from where his chin was rested on it. "It's okay."

It took a moment or two, but Egon finally relaxed slightly, his hand turning in Peter's to loosely entwine their fingers. "I'm so sorry...."
"Spengs! If you apologize one more time...." The threat hung in the air as Peter reached over with his free hand and snagged Spengler's coffee. He would have made his own, but the physical contact between them was nice, and not something that would come back easily were he to break it now. Peter sat for a while, drinking his friend's coffee and watching as some of the storm in Egon's eyes calmed. After the right amount of time, Peter started cautiously, "Could I ask you a personal question?" Egon hesitated for only the briefest of moments before nodding. "Did you really sleep with the slime?"

To Peter's astonishment and delight, Egon threw his head back and laughed. "I can't believe you two fell for that so completely!" The grin on his face was absolutely genuine. "What do think I did? Stuck my dick in a bowl of that stuff?! Do you really think I'm that stupid?!" Peter thought for a moment. Yes, that's really what he'd thought. And in private moments through the years, that image had haunted him. Egon must have caught the look on his face, because he suddenly exclaimed, "You did!" Disbelief flooded his features. "You really believe that's what I did!"
Now it was Peter's turn to blush. "I thought.... You looked *so* sincere, and when I asked Ray if he was sleeping with it and he looked at you...."
"The night we did the experiments, we were trying to think of some positive tests. Ray said that if you'd been there you'd have probably tried to seduce it. So when you asked... it was really just spontaneous, and you and Winston seemed so convinced that I'd do something like that, it amused me too much for me to tell you otherwise."
Peter could see the mirth in Spengler's eyes. It was the truth. In an instant, Peter could see how nuts the suggestion was, yet he'd believed it all this time. Egon pulled himself together, and used the contact he had, his fingers entwined in Peter's, to pull Peter back with him. "Whatever made you think of that?" The question was out of his mouth before his brain made the very easy connection between Peter's inquiry and the incident this morning. Egon's mirth evaporated instantly, and he bowed his head.

"Spengs, please." Peter let go of the coffee cup and reached out to lift Egon's chin. "Stop thinking that you did something terrible. Please. It happens to us all. You're only human." His reassurances seemed to work. He waited a short time, not wanting to lose the mood or the subject, before asking, "Can I ask you another personal question?"
Egon smiled, playing his fingers gently around Peter's as they touched in mid-air, elbows rested on the table. "Sure."
"When was the last time you slept with someone?"
Egon's eyes widened for a moment, before he smiled. "I'm glad you said 'some *one*'." He paused, but Peter didn't withdraw the question, so finally he said, "Okay. Do you remember Katie Palmer?"
Peter frowned. "My college prom date, Katie Palmer?" Egon nodded, and when he didn't elaborate, Peter prompted, "When?"
"The night before the prom."
Peter felt two distinct reactions; humour at the fact that shy little Egon had pulled one over on him, *and* kept it quiet all this time, and sadness at what Egon was really confessing.

"I hate to say it, Spengs," he spoke gently, "but it's hardly surprising that your body reacted to being so close to mine."
Egon swallowed hard, but nodded. When he did look up he met Peter's understanding gaze head-on. "Now, can I ask you a personal question?"
"Anything."
"The night before last, when you stayed over at your girlfriend's place,"
"Yes..."
"What did you dream about?"
Peter's mouth dropped open. *How the hell...?* "How did you know?!"
"Instinct."
Peter shook his head slowly, "I'm sorry, Egon, I can't..."
"Peter, I've just admitted to you that I haven't had sex in over eight years. It couldn't possibly have been any more embarrassing than that."
*If only you knew, my friend, if only....* Peter drew one, slow finger down Egon's palm, then stood. "I'm sorry."

Egon watched him go with only a small amount of surprise. He reclaimed his almost-cold coffee and finished it. *This conversation, Peter*, he thought ruefully, *is not over.*

***

It was lunchtime when Egon tried again to get a straight answer to his straight question, although deep down he suspected he might already know what that answer was going to be. He made a plate of ham and mustard toasties and quietly knocked on Peter's office door. "Yeah. Come on in, Egon." Egon turned the handle and padded into the room, carefully dropping the plate in front of Peter's nose on the desk. "Lunch."
"You didn't have to do that, Spengs." He looked up at Egon's frown. "But thank you anyway." Egon nodded and turned back to the door. Both he and Peter knew he wasn't going through it before he'd asked again, so Peter pre-empted him. "It's not important, Egon. Some things are better left unsaid."
Egon let out a slightly irritated breath, "Cute." Surprised at the un-Spengler like comment, Peter watched the door close. He couldn't tell Egon, it would have too much baring on their relationship. So close, so intimate.... Peter wasn't sure what he would do if he ever lost Egon. Two months ago, they'd come so close to losing him, during a bust that had had almost tragic consequences. Watching firemen drag that slim body from the wreckage of the collapsed building, seeing the paramedics doing CPR, forcing the breath into Egon's lungs as he lay unmoving on the cold ground, these images still haunted Peter's nightmares. Peter had ridden in the ambulance with him, Winston following in Ecto with a distraught Ray Stantz in the passenger seat. Half way to the hospital, Egon's heart had stopped again. Peter had been able to do nothing but sit in one corner of the vehicle and weep silently as the crew restarted his friend's heart.

Peter shook himself and picked up one of the toasties. He loved Egon. He'd spent two weeks sitting in Intensive Care waiting for the guy to open his eyes and talk. And when he had, when he'd squeezed Peter's hand and whispered a request for water, Peter had burst into tears of joy, telling Egon over and over how much he loved him, and how he had to promise not to ever scare Uncle Peter like that ever again. He could hear Egon now, messing about in the kitchen, making himself some food. He ought to go and talk to him, after everything Egon had confessed this morning, part of Peter knew he needed to give something in return. But he couldn't give the answer Egon was looking for, he just couldn't.

***

But Egon had already gotten the answer - he wanted more than that. It was going dark outside when Peter padded into the TV room and sat down on the sofa, curling one leg under himself and settling into the corner in a mirror image of Egon. The other man put down his book and met Peter's eyes.
"Spengs..."
"You dreamt of me, didn't you?"
Peter opened his mouth before the words hit him. How did Egon work these things out? Was he, Peter, really that transparent? Or did Spengler just know him too well, well enough to read his soul simply by looking into his eyes. He had planned on making that confession, but now he just nodded. "It didn't mean anything, Spengs...."
"So why did you spend all yesterday agonizing over it, and why didn't you answer my question this morning?"
Peter sighed deeply, this was nuts. "Let it go, Spengs." He breathed. "Please?"
Egon dropped his eyes for a moment, but Peter was sure he'd seen something in the deep storm there - maybe disappointment? When Egon looked back at him, whatever it had been was now replaced by an emotion Peter didn't think Egon was capable of - defeat. "Alright Peter," he nodded. "If that's what you want, I'll drop it."
"Thank you." The words were out before he could stop them, but he wasn't sure now that it *was* what he really wanted.

Egon hadn't taken his eyes from Peter's face and was carefully reading the psychologist's expression. He could see the uncertainty clearly, but he didn't want to push it. He had been disappointed that Peter felt he couldn't talk to him about this, but he could also understand his friend's reluctance and was willing to let it go - even if he couldn't forget that it had happened - if that's what Peter wanted him to do. But only if that was he wanted, not if that was what he thought they should do because civility requested it.

"Why have you never asked Janine out?" Peter asked suddenly. If Egon was surprised by the question, he didn't let it show. He answered as simply as if Peter had just asked him whether they were okay for milk.
"She's not really my type, Pete, you know that."
"She's crazy about you."
That elicited a smile. "Paul Bennett was crazy about *you*, but you didn't ask him out." It was a straight answer, and in any other conversation, at any other time, with any other person, it would have simply been an example of Egon's own, personal brand of wit. But Egon had phrased it so that Peter could read into it only what he wanted to.
Peter gave him a wry smile, wiggling a finger at him. "Oh, *that* was very good...." Egon's expression, not quite smug, but quietly waiting, didn't change, although he did acknowledge the sly move and let Peter off that particular hook.
"Actually, that was slightly below the belt." He gave Peter a moment to realize exactly how much he'd given away, simply through his spontaneous compliment. "Janine's almost too crazy about me, Peter." His voice dropped a notch. "I think I'd worry about disappointing her. She seems to have me on this pedestal and I don't know if I can live up to that, or more to the point, whether I really want to."
Peter sighed, quietly saying, "I don't think you would ever disappoint anyone, Egon." He smiled off Egon's slight blush. "Don't you worry, about growing old, and having someone to share all that with?"
"To tell you the truth, I don't worry about getting old because I don't think I'm going to get that chance." It took a while for those words to sink in. "After that bust on Seventh...." Egon let the words hang in the air. Peter had spent many hours letting him talk through his fears after he'd narrowly escaped death when that building had collapsed. But it had driven home to Egon just how lucky they were that one of them hadn't been killed outright before now. Surely, that luck was going to run out at some point.
Peter reached out and took hold of Egon's hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. "Don't say that Egon," he whispered. "Please. I'm still having nightmares about when we nearly lost you. I have no idea how I'd go on without you."
For a while they sat in an understanding silence, before Peter confirmed, "I dreamt about you." He didn't look up, but kept his eyes on their joined hands. "And somehow you know what happened, don't you?" Now he did look up, and saw Egon nod.
"I saw it in your eyes yesterday morning."
"Maybe I should take to wearing sunglasses," Peter grouched.
"This is me, Peter. You should be able to talk to me instead of going to the park and spending all day surrounded by the country's top security personnel."
"Under normal circumstances, Spengs," Peter assured him, "I would prefer your company, and you know it."
"But not under these circumstances?"
Peter looked at Egon's bowed head in disbelief, "And what exactly do you think I could have said to you? 'Oh, by the way, Spengs, I dreamt about sleeping with you last night.'" Suddenly Egon's head shot up, a triumphant smile on his face.
"There! You said it!" Peter pulled his hand away and dropped his face into his palms, shaking his head. "That wasn't so difficult, now was it?!"
Peter let out a deep breath, "Okay, so now you know."
"So do it." Slowly, Peter lifted his head from his hands and his eyes to Egon's face. The expression he saw there was one of blind certainty, the kind you would see if you'd just told someone you fancied a walk to the shops, and they'd told you to go if you wanted to, 'cause what was stopping you? Peter's mouth worked but nothing came out. "Tell me you were repulsed by the dream, that it's something you haven't been thinking about since yesterday morning, and mean it, and I will forget we had this conversation."

Peter's eyes widened, but he didn't speak. He was staring at Egon, staring into those deep blue eyes, over that soft mousy brown hair. His friend was offering him so much, his open honesty clearly laid out, even thought Peter could shatter him with one word. *The idea of being so intimate with you...* "Spengs..." Peter moved closer to Egon, dropping his forehead onto his friend's as they both looked down to the seat where their hands closed over each other's. Peter lowered his voice to a whisper. "I've never done this before."
"And you think I have?" It wasn't really a question, just a nervous confession. "I think I'm as scared as you are."
Peter let go of Egon's hand and moved his fingers to rake them through his friend's soft hair, to run his palm down over the back of Egon's head, down his neck, to dip his fingers under the loose neck of the sweater he wore. As fingertips contacted with smooth, bare skin, Peter twisted his head slightly, in one smooth motion mirrored by Egon, until their lips touched. The kiss was hesitant at first, nervous, as each gauged the other. Then Peter nudged Egon's lips with his tongue and Egon finally opened his mouth to allow his friend a first taste. Peter wanted to cry out with relief and joy as Egon sucked gently on his tongue, but he was content with feeling the smooth bare skin beneath his fingertips. The confidence with which Egon kissed him drove a thought through his mind that maybe his friend had done this before, but it was quickly followed by the reassuring knowledge that it was only the confidence Egon showed in everything he did.

Peter began to think that he could drown in these sensations. The sweet taste of Egon's mouth, the perfect skin under his touch, the gentle, possessive sucking on his tongue.... He groaned, feeling Egon smile he reluctantly ended the kiss and pulled back. His heart was racing, his breath quick, and although, outwardly, Egon looked the epitome of composure, Peter could feel the man's skin flushed against where his palm was flat against Egon's back, and his slightly open mouth and wide eyes spoke volumes. Peter swallowed hard. "Jeez, Spengs...." The corner of Egon's mouth curled up into a quirky, surprisingly sexy smile.
"Well," he murmured, reaching up to touch Peter's face, "it's not too bad...." Peter feigned shock and indigence, then jumped him. He bigger man pushed Egon back against the corner of the sofa, leaning in to kiss him again, wanting more of every sensation that was pounding through his body. Peter felt Egon's arms encircle him, urging him to relax his weight, reassuring him that Egon's body wasn't going to collapse under him, smiling at Peter's enjoyment of what he'd gone to so much trouble to deny and avoid. This time, when Peter pulled back, he too was smiling. "Stop it!"
Egon gave an astoundingly convincing look of innocence, under the circumstances. "Stop what?"
"You're grinning, I can feel it." Peter sat back, balancing on the leg that was still curled under him. Egon reached up and snagged Peter's hand, playing with his fingers.
"It felt good to have you touching me." He said quietly.
Peter nodded. "You *feel* good."
"So why did you stop?" The base of Egon's voice caressed Peter in a way he'd never felt before. He'd known this man so long, thought he'd known everything there was to know. He'd never been so wrong. Egon felt amazing under his fingers and tasted wonderful under his lips. Why did he stop? Cause he was nervous as hell, that was why.
"I don't know..."
"You're scared," Egon whispered, "and you're not the only one." He sat up and moved his fingers into Peter's hair, slowly drawing him closer, parting his lips, flicking his tongue across Peter's lips, eyes flashing with a desire so strong, Peter found he couldn't deny his feelings against his partner's open need.
"Spengs...." The moment the word was out, Peter sealed his mouth over Egon's, wrapping the slim body in a tight embrace as his hands slid under the sweater until they found bare skin to hold. They fell against the back of the sofa together, clinging to each other, Peter feeling Egon's long fingers sliding through his hair to the back of his neck. The first, quiet sounds of Egon's arousal sent a sweeping desire through Peter's own body, and he pressed closer, wanting to feel Egon's body as he had felt him this morning.

At the very familiar sound of a car pulling up outside, both men froze. Breathing heavily, hearts pounding, the look of utter misery on Egon's face sent a stab through Peter's heart. "Ray." The word was spoken between them in unison, and in the same sync, their foreheads came together. "Promise me, Spengs," Peter breathed. "Promise me we'll carry this on *real* soon."
"I promise, Peter. Believe me, I want this as much as you do."
"You won't ever pretend this didn't happen?" Peter knew the answer before he'd asked the question, Egon had never denied him and never let him down. And although Egon knew Peter knew, he promised anyway.
They both pulled in a long breath, touched lips once more, and let go of one another. Peter threw him an almost desperate look, before heading upstairs. Egon straightened himself out, and stepped outside to let the cold air cool his body before he walked around to the garage to greet their colleague. And although Egon always loved to see one of his friends, this time, just for once, he wished Ray had stayed away just one more day.

***

Two

Peter smiled to himself as he leaned against the doorframe, watching Egon making hot chocolate, and humming along with the quiet, ambient music he had chosen. It was strange, how often the physicist could do this and still look, the following morning, as if he had had a full night's sleep. He was so graceful in his movements, so at peace with himself, with the world around him. Peter knew Egon had found a family in he and Ray, and later Winston, but he half-suspected that Egon would have carved out a life for himself anywhere, whatever had happened. He wondered, sometimes, if it hadn't been his own fault that they had all been evicted from the university in the first place, and why Egon had never blamed him for their untimely sacking. But Doctor Spengler had taken even the loss of his job in his stride, never attributing blame, eagerly accepting Peter's proposal that they go into business for themselves, and developing the containment unit with the professional care and attention which he seemed to apportion to everything he was asked to invent, and some things he wasn't.

*I love everything about you, Spengs, everything. And I can't help remembering how you felt, how you tasted...*
"Peter...." Peter almost jumped, pulled from his musings by Egon's quiet bass. "Do you want some?" He indicated the drink he was about to pour, and Peter practically skipped into the room, 'are you kidding?' written all over his face. Egon handed him a mug, but didn't sit down. Instead, a silent question was asked and answered, and Egon let Peter lead the way into the tv room. They sat on the sofa, closer than maybe they would usually sit, setting the hot mugs down on the coffee table. Then, as if giving into a need that was almost too desperate to bare, Peter turned to Egon. The older man relaxed back, his eyes and arms welcoming, his mouth already open as Peter's lips closed over his. Egon groaned softly, dipping his tongue into Peter's mouth to taste him, aware of every movement of Peter's hands under his pyjama top. Egon turned slightly, and sank back on the sofa, pulling Peter down with him, until his head rested on the arm of the sofa and Peter's body was lying half above, half beside him.

Egon's own, nimble fingers unfastened one of Peter's PJ-top buttons, searching out sensitive areas of skin to tease. He lightly pinched a nipple, and smiled, delighted as Peter moaned, low in his throat, and claimed Egon's tongue, sucking on it desperately. Peter shifted his body, positioning himself so that he could finally feel the physical effect he was having on Egon. As Egon pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss, Peter rubbed his hips gently against those beneath him, causing friction between them and tearing a cry of feral need from Egon that had its own, sensuously arousing effect. He could feel his friend's rapid breathing, see the desire in his eyes, taste his swollen lips, feel his straining erection.... "Spengs..." Egon's hand wrapped around the back of Peter's head and drew him back down, his tongue licking his partner's lips before delving deeper into the warm mouth....

....Both men stopped, their bodies straining to get closer, but their minds registering footsteps above them. With a soft whimper, Peter buried his face against Egon's neck. "God, Spengs," he whispered, "I don't know if I can stop...."
With a whimper of his own, Egon kissed Peter's shoulder. "We have to. Get up." His voice was infinitely gentle, but with an authoritative edge to it that Peter's subconscious had no choice but to obey. They sat close, listening to the footsteps pad across the bedroom floor and down the stairs. Quickly, Egon straightened himself. Luckily, Peter had his back to the door as Ray's tired face peered around.
"Any more chocolate where that came from?" Ray nodded at the mugs, hope shining in his eyes.
Egon nodded, returning the smile with some effort. "In the kitchen."
"Umm... thanks."

The door closed behind them, and Peter knew he had to get out and back upstairs before Ray returned to drink with his partners. He turned to Egon to explain, but the physicist only smiled, placed a lingering kiss on his lips, and nodded his head towards the door. "Go on, I know. I'll chat to Ray." Peter smiled gratefully, getting up as Egon said, "Peter?"
"Um?"
He dropped his voice to a mere breath. "Think about me..." Peter let out a deep breath.
"Soon, Spengs, or I'll go mad."

***

Three

Peter slammed the door of Ecto, turning on Egon with real fury burning in his eyes vehemence in his voice. "Don't you ever do that to me again!" Egon stepped back, unsure of how to continue, but Ray came forward, holding up a warning hand,
"Calm down, Peter, it's over now."
But Venkman was too pent up to be calmed so easily. "Like hell it is!" He didn't shift the focus of his anger from Egon. "What if that thing had chosen to sacrifice you instead of our client? Huh? Did that thought *ever* enter your mind?! Jeez Egon, you could have been killed! That thing would have ripped you open and eaten your insides for dinner with you watching!" Egon swallowed hard, the image flashing unstoppably through his mind. Ray saw the colour drain suddenly from his face, and was at his side only moments before he collapsed.
Ray gently lowered Egon to the floor, sweeping a gentle hand over his face. "Okay, Egon," he whispered, "it's okay, you just need to rest." Winston glared at Peter before crouching down to lift the unconscious man from Ray's arms and carry him upstairs. As he did, he said simply, "Was that really necessary?"

Peter deflated a bit as Ray laid a caring hand on his arm, his eyes filled with concern. "I'm sorry, Ray, you know I didn't mean...."
"It's okay, Pete, we were all worried out there. Egon'll be fine, probably shock. I don't think he'd really thought about it...."
"Of course he hadn't. If we stopped to think about it, we'd never get to half of these busts. I didn't mean to do that.... He just scared me so much, after last time...."
Ray nodded in complete understanding. "I know. But you know what he's like...."

Egon opened his eyes, wearily and looked around the dark bedroom. Across from him, Ray and Winston were sleeping soundly, their individual snores reassuring him. Peter's bed was empty though, and straining for a moment, Egon could make out the tv on downstairs. He sat up and reached up to his locker for his glasses. Someone had left him a glass of water and he took a few sips thankfully. He waited a few seconds for his head to stop spinning, then got up and headed downstairs, grabbing his gown as he went.
Peter was huddled into the corner of the sofa watching some Western or other, probably one that he'd seen many times before. He looked up as Egon sat down opposite him. "Hey, Spengs, I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." But Egon silenced him with a wave.
"It's okay, Peter, *I'm* sorry, it was stupid of me. I thought I could buy you three a few more minutes to reset the throwers, I guess I was wrong." Peter could see the apology deep in Egon's eyes. "It was my fault. You'd have had more time if I hadn't done what I'd done."
Peter smiled, reaching to touch Egon's hand where it lay over the back of the sofa. "Trying to be the hero is my job, Spengs," he whispered, "not yours." Egon nodded, watching Peter gaze back at him. Both knew for an instant that the other's thoughts had shifted from the day's events, to the events of a cold afternoon a week ago.
Slowly, Egon leaned towards Peter, dropping his voice, knowing, after the incident this afternoon, Ray would be down soon to make sure everything was okay. "I need you, Peter. I want to know, I just want to be that close to you, just once." He passed his lips over Peter's before he stood up in one fluid motion. Peter smiled up at him, and accepted the hand that pulled him to his feet.
"I need you too, Spengs." Peter stared longing at the face inches from his. "We have to think of something before we end up renting a hotel room." Egon laughed.
"Not my style, Peter."

They'd gotten to the top of the stairs when Egon had stopped suddenly, and turned, bolting for the bathroom. A moment later, Peter heard him retching violently. "Jeez...." He peered around the bathroom door as Ray appeared at the bedroom door.
"Peter, is everything okay?"
"I'm not sure... Spengs, you alright?"
Peter took one of the glasses from the bathroom cupboard, filled it with water, and knelt beside his friend, reaching up to gently remove Egon's glasses as Egon uncurled his legs to sit down on the floor, his fingers barely letting go of the rim of the toilet bowl. His face was white, and when he tried to hold the glass Peter was offering, his shaking fingers lost all their coherency and the glass would have fallen had Peter not kept hold.
"Ray, get a blanket in here." Peter held the glass to Egon's lips, "Easy, Spengs, just a couple of sips, okay?"
Peter pushed the damp straggles of hair back from Egon's forehead, seeing tears in his friend's eyes. "It's okay, Spengs..."
Egon drew a trembling hand across his eyes, "I hate..."
"I know, it's all right."
Ray settled the blanket across Egon's shoulders, crouching by him and leaving his arm draped around the physicist. They all had their own fears and this was one of Egon's worst. He hated the feeling of loss of control that accompanied being sick. It was difficult to tell, then, how much of his sweating and shivering was fear and how much was brought on by whatever had triggered this. Peter had the glass to Egon's lips when he saw those blue eyes widen and knew what was happening. He put the glass down on the floor, and added his arm to Ray's to try and give some comfort while Egon was throwing up.

When it was clear that there was very little more for Egon to actually bring up, Peter handed the glass to Ray and went to phone Dr Michaels. Ray felt Egon lean against him, the retching had left him exhausted and upset. Ray tightened his arm, pulling the blanket closer around Egon before offering him some more water. Egon took a couple of sips before twisting to look up at Ray. "I'm sorry...."
"Hey," Ray ruffled his hair gently, "It's not your fault you're ill. It's probably just something you ate." Egon gave him a weak smile, leaning into the offered warmth, and Ray wrapped both arms around the still-shivering body, rubbing his hands up and down Egon's arms in an attempt to transfer some heat, Egon's skin felt chilled to the touch. Peter watched them for a moment from the door, having been joined by Winston who had finally been woken by the commotion. "What happened?" the dark man had quietly inquired.
"I dunno, we were talking downstairs, then we came up to bed and suddenly he ran into the bathroom - it was that quick. I don't understand. I would have said it was food poisoning, but he hasn't eaten since lunch, that was almost twelve hours ago, and we all had the same thing - I feel fine. You?" Winston nodded. "So all that's left is the incident this afternoon, but I can't see how."
While they'd been talking, Egon, with Ray's help, had made it to his feet and was standing leaning against Stantz. "If you two have finished discussing me like I wasn't here...." His voice was shaky, and Peter felt instantly apologetic - this wasn't easy on Spengler anyway, they weren't really helping. Ray helped Egon into the bedroom, followed closely by Peter. Dr Michaels was on his way, and Winston had decided coffee was in order - it was unspoken that they would all remain awake, whatever Egon had picked up, he wouldn't go through this alone. Egon settled into bed, still wearing his gown over his nightshirt, still wrapped in the blanket Ray had given to him, and still shivering. Peter returned to the bathroom for a thermonitor, Ray letting him sit on the edge of Egon's bed as he eased the think tube into Egon's mouth. "Just hold this under your tongue for a minute, big guy." Peter touched the back of his fingers to Egon's forehead, feeling the heat there. Two minutes later, Peter extracted the thermonitor and took the reading. "102."
"So why does he feel so cold?"
Peter glanced at Egon, his eyes now closed against the bedroom light, his breathing evening out. "It must be a fever, his internal system must be all messed up. I just don't understand how it could happen so fast."
Winston switched the main light off when he arrived with the coffees, turning on the far bedside light for the moment. They waited in a peaceful quiet, with Ray and Winston discussing some modifications to Ecto, and Peter stroking Egon's hair and hand, trying to reassure. Twenty minutes later, Peter answered the door to Dr Michaels.
"Stan, thanks for coming over."
"You sounded worried."
Peter lead him upstairs. "It was so quick."

Winston and Ray tactfully retreated to the tv room while Michaels examined a barely-awake Egon. Peter sat on the edge of his own bed, answering questions. Michaels divided his conversation between talking quietly to Egon and asking Peter what he needed to know. "How often was he sick?"
Peter shrugged, "Ten, twelve times, two separate bouts."
"And you say he's had nothing to eat or drink since lunch?" Peter explained about that afternoon's bust, and Egon's collapse afterwards, but Michaels dismissed that as shock-related. He took Egon's temperature and blood pressure, and after ten minutes he covered his patient back over and administered an injection that Egon didn't even feel.
Peter saw that and approached them. "Well?"
"It's poisoning all right, very nasty, but he'll be fine now. I would say that most of it came up when he was sick. I've given him an injection that should combat the poison traces in his bloodstream, but if he's sick again, you call me and we'll get him to a hospital. He ought to sleep now, well into the morning. If you have any worries, call me. He's only to drink water for the next twenty-four hours and I don't want him left alone for any time during that period. Okay?"
Peter nodded, indicating that the instructions were clear, and Stan knew that Egon would be cared for and nursed back to health. "I'll speak to the others on my way out."

Peter lay down behind Egon, wrapping his arms around him, taking his chilled hands in his own. Even in sleep, shivers were periodically driving through Egon's body. He'd been so scared for Egon, but Michaels had reassured him, now he was content just to hug Egon and keep him warm through the cold night. Winston smiled down at his two friends as Peter propped his head on a second pillow, eyes wide open. He smiled back, and unwrapped one arm to reach up for his coffee. Instead, he picked up the glass that had been on Egon's locker and stared at it. "Winston, what the hell is this?"

***

Egon woke, stretched and curled himself back up with a whimper of pain. His stomach felt as if it had been removed, jumped on and replaced. A cool hand touched his cheek and he opened his pained eyes to see Peter sitting next to his bed, a small glass balanced between his hands. "Take it easy, Spengs. You're fine now, but you've been through quite a rough night." Egon nodded in agreement. His eyes slipped closed, but Peter's hand was back on his cheek. "Egon, before you go back to sleep, we need to know something." Blue eyes opened again. "When you got up last night, before you came down to talk to me, did you have a drink of water from a glass someone had left on your locker?"
Egon gave that some thought. "Yes." The word was barely a whisper.
Peter nodded, "Thanks. It's okay, you can sleep now. You're going to be fine."

Peter stood up and Janine took his place, reaching out to squeeze Egon's hand. He joined Ray and Winston in the kitchen. He placed the glass on the table. "Egon thought it was water, he had a drink just before he came down to talk to me."
"And how long were you two talking for?"
"About ten minutes."
Ray dropped his head into his hands. "I am so sorry, I thought I'd taken it down into the lab."
Winston lifted the innocuous, transparent liquid. "So what exactly is it?"
"Well.... The people we stole it from claimed it was extra-terrestrial.... stuff."
Winston frowned, "Stuff?" But Peter was smiling, having finally worked out what Ray had been trying to tell them all morning.
"You mean, semen, don't you?" Ray nodded,
"I very much doubt it is, but we were a bit drunk, the final night of that convention, and it seemed like a good idea. Jimmy suggested I take it back and get Egon to analyze it. We've been so busy, that I just haven't had time to ask him, and then yesterday I think I was on my way to his lab when the alarm sounded..... I must have just put it down on my way to the pole."
Now Winston was smiling. "Oh I think he's analyzed it alright! And I for one am *not* telling him that it was alien sperm that made him sick last night."
Peter shook his head, "Me neither."
Ray looked from one to the other, "Guys, no, please...."
"He has to know, Ray." Peter insisted. "This is your punishment for doing a Spengler and leaving hazardous experimental samples where some poor sucker might drink them." Peter had never really forgiven Egon for the urine-in-the-fridge episode, and if Egon hadn't have been so very ill last night, he may have seen this as his indirect revenge. But the image of Egon sitting, curled on the bathroom floor, clinging to the toilet and shaking like a leaf had stuck in his mind, and in his heart, right in the large part that loved Egon more than words could describe. "Wait until he has some of his strength back, and starts asking questions. Then we'll point him in your direction."

***

Peter woke to find Egon's bed empty. He got out of bed himself, padding over to the top of the stairs to listen for movement downstairs, some telltale sign that Egon was sitting on his own, but he could near nothing. He thought for a moment, then grabbed his robe and climbed the stairs to the roof. Egon was standing near the edge, looking out across the city. "You shouldn't be out here, Spengs." He kept his voice quiet. "You should keep warm."
Without turning, Egon said, "So come over here and keep me warm." Peter smiled to himself and crossed the distance to stand behind Egon, to wrap his arms around the slim waist, to carefully pull him back against his chest. He dropped a feather-light kiss onto the side of Egon's neck.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes, Peter, I'm fine." There was a patient edge to his answer.
"Just fed up with us all asking you if you're okay?" Egon didn't say anything. He leaned his head back onto Peter's shoulder. "You scared us, Pal."
"It scared me, Peter." Egon's confession was so quiet, Peter barely heard it. But it registered deep in his heart. "I know it's irrational, I know it's stupid for someone my age, it's such a terrible feeling..." It took Peter a moment to realize what Egon was talking about, before the previous night's events came flooding back, and he knew Egon was talking about his feelings from his own perspective of the incident. "...I hate losing control like that, it scares me to death, Peter...." Peter felt the body in his arms start to tremble, and gently turned and caught him as he fell weeping into his embrace, slim arms going around Peter's neck, clinging to him in desperation and remembered fear. Peter eased his hand over Egon's head, holding him carefully.
"That's it," Peter murmured into his friend's soft hair, "let it all out. It's the only way to start to work through this." The lock around Peter's neck tightened, and he returned the gesture, holding his friend against him, cradling him as he would something very precious. "It's not stupid, Egon, we all have our own fears. It's natural that someone like you should fear the loss of control that comes with being sick."

It was some time before Egon's tears slowed, and by then, Peter had drawn the conclusion that something besides Egon's sudden confrontation with one of his own anxieties was causing his distress. Once Egon had calmed, Peter lead him to his bench and gently sat him down, sitting close and keeping him enveloped in the warm embrace. "Talk to me, Spengs,. Tell me what else is bothering you."
Egon pulled back slightly, wiping his eyes and nose on his gown's sleeve, an action which seemed so unlike Egon, Peter had to stop himself from leaving to fetch the box of tissues from the lab. Finally, in a quiet, choked voice, Egon said, "I'm sure you can work it out, Peter." He slowly brought his head up to see Peter's mouth fall open slightly; he felt the breath go out of his friend as Peter read the expression in his face. There was no explanation needed, Egon's desperate need was written clear on the surface of his soul, visible in the deep blue storms of his eyes.
"God, Egon...." When Peter rose a hand to Egon's face, he found he was trembling too.
"Every moment I spend with you I just want to be closer to you.... It's starting to hurt, starting to be too much so I can't ignore it like I could before...."

The words pierced the moment with absolute clarity. "How long, Egon?" When the other man didn't answer, Peter leaned in slowly and placed a gentle kiss on Egon's lips. "How long?"
"A quite substantial length of time." After a long silence, Peter just knew he wasn't going to get any more of an answer. He pulled Egon closer to him, hugging him against the cold, rubbing his hands up and down his back.
"I'll think of something, Spengs." Peter said finally. "I promise."

***

Four

Egon waved goodbye to Ray as the Caddy pulled away from the road. They had agreed not to take any calls this weekend, after Peter had informed them that maybe Egon's brush with alien DNA had affected him more than expected. Both Winston and Ray had immediately understood - they'd all been with him that night, all seen the fear on his face, all were aware of Egon's hatred and terror of being that poorly. Winston had taken Ecto off to a car show he had thought maybe he wouldn't get to because they had been busy recently. And on the Saturday lunchtime, Ray's friends had called to suggest an overnight stay at a hotel said to be plagued by alien abductions over the last week. Under a strict promise that he wouldn't bring any more alien samples back with him, and after a big hug from Egon, he'd packed and gone off with three others in the Caddy, to the strains of "Spaceman".

Peter was still at the town hall, talking over some election promises with the mayor. He had left believing that Ray was staying at the firehouse for weekend, despite his dropping of ideas that maybe there was some convention somewhere that Ray would like to attend. Egon stood in the garage doorway for a long time, before his gaze fell upon the small general store across the road. He had an idea.

It was actually gone eight by the time Egon heard Peter's footsteps in the main hall and his complaining that the mayor owed him consultancy and a good meal. He stood over the sweet 'n' sour sauce, listening to the flowing sounds of Enya's 'The Memory of Trees' and sipping the wine he'd bought. He was smiling contentedly when Peter first poked his nose around the doorframe. "Spengs?"
"Um?"
"That smells amazing! Have we got guests?"
Egon smiled. "Why don't you go grab a shower, and I'll feed you when you come down again."
Peter frowned, slightly confused, but he did as he was told. Only when Egon heard Peter's footsteps on the stairs did he set the table and make sure everything was cooked to perfection. His eyes fell on the bottle of wine and the multitude of candles that were illuminating the room - how much more forward could he be?
Pouring the sauce into a bowl, Egon only saw Peter standing in the doorway when he turned to put the bowl on the table. He simply smiled at his friend and handed him a glass of wine. "Are we celebrating something here, Spengs?" Peter took a sip and his eyebrows rose. This wasn't the normal, inexpensive paint stripper that usually graced this table.
"Have a guess at what happened at lunchtime."
"What?"
"Ray's alien-chasing buddies called."
Peter's eyes widened, his glass lowering in expectation. "Is he going somewhere?"
"At three this afternoon, he was taken away in a pink Caddy, and they're not returning until tomorrow evening." Peter smiled, downed the glass of wine in one, and leaned back against the doorframe, his eyes wondering over to where Egon was fetching the battered chicken from the oven. "You trying to seduce me, then, Spengs?"
Egon's face flushed a deep red and Peter realized that it had probably been the wrong thing to say, despite his confidence, deep inside, Peter knew for certain, Egon was scared of messing things up - he'd never done this before, and if his comment the other night was anything to go by, he'd been thinking about this for some time. Peter pushed off the wooden frame and padded over to where Egon was standing blushing. "If you are," Peter murmured, "then I accept." Egon looked up and saw the sparkle in Peter's eyes. Egon turned and placed the hot baking tray on the heat-resistant surface, before giving Peter his full, undivided attention. He snaked his arms around his friend's body, feeling Peter pill him closer.
"In that case, I definitely am." Their lips met over the words, tongues dancing, promising each other silently that nothing would stop them this time, each knowing nothing, short of the firehouse burning down, really could. The tempting aroma of the sweet 'n' sour sauce and the spicy chicken curled up Peter's nose. He was hungry, but more for Egon than for the dinner that awaited them. Knowingly, Egon pulled back. "I promise, that if Ray comes home tonight, I'll drug him and lock him in the tv room."
Peter smiled, "It's a deal. Lets eat." He took a step back and allowed Egon to put the rest of the meal out. Peter poured the wine and sat down, surveying the Chinese feast laid out before him. "Egon, you can't make sandwiches. How did you do this?"
Egon sat down, smiling. "You always said it was best people didn't know everything about you."
"Egon! We've all lived together for eight years! I've known you almost fifteen years! How can you have kept it secret that you're a gourmet cook?!"
"I'm not a gourmet cook! Besides, no one asked me to cook after the Casserole incident, except sandwiches, and I really can't make sandwiches."
Peter chuckled. "How do you do it, Spengs? After all this time, you still manage to surprise me."
"Quit with the flattery and just eat it!" But Egon's eyes were shining with unreserved affection.

Egon watched Peter wipe his mouth on the napkin. "That, Spengs, was fantastic. Thank you." Egon smiled, reaching his hand out across the table, smiling when Peter took it possessively.
"There is desert." Peter lifted Egon's hand, singling out his index finger and gently sliding it between his lips, sucking on it, believing he could see the desire building in Egon's eyes. "I know, it's sitting right in front of me." Egon could feel the warm moisture on his skin, his eyes drawn to where Peter's mouth was closed over his finger. Unconsciously, he licked his lips, his arousal growing more difficult to ignore. There was nothing else, then, but the two of them. Both men stood, giving into the aching desperation to be closer. Egon locked Peter in a tight embrace, searching out his mouth with his own, his plea clear in his eyes. Peter kissed his old friend deeply, before pulling back and finding his hands. "C'mon, Spengs." Egon felt his heartrate increase as Peter lead him up the stairs to the bedroom.

The first bed they came across was Peter's, and he sank down, pulling Egon with him.

++

Peter had wanted to wake with his partner's warmth still wrapping around him, but as soon as he opened his eyes he knew that was not going to happen. Egon hadn't simply woken, he'd gone. His glasses were no longer on the locker, his clothes no longer piled on the floor. There was no sight nor sound of him in the silence of the firehouse. Despite the fact that he'd wanted Egon so very badly, and he knew his partner wanted the same, some tiny part of Peter's soul had known that this would be the scene he would wake up to. Sighing deeply, Peter got up and padded over to the bathroom, standing in the shower for a long, long time, thinking about that Egon, about last night, about how good his friend had felt. For years he'd watched Egon Spengler work, been there by his side through times of heart-warming joy and devasting danger. And last night, together, they'd touched soul to soul, discovering parts of them neither had known before. It was a espial of true emotions and feelings, previously tucked away where civilized men kept such things hidden, concealed from all for the benfit of the few. Peter knew he had never before felt anything so strong or inviting; he had never loved with the passion and desire that he had loved with last night, never had that desperate need reflected back at him than Egon had reflected it.

And now.... what? That was why Egon had not been there when he'd woken. Because there was nothing either could say without it hurting. They couldn't carry on an affair, the consequences would be too far-reaching... wouldn't they? There was Ray and Winston, to begin with, although Peter was sure they would understand, and maybe see it before they were told. Then there was Janine. Peter was sure she loved Egon desperately, but was too shy, too scared of the almost certain rejection she would face if she spoke her feelings aloud to him. And then there was the Press, the media hype that had surrounded the founding of Ghostbusters had not let up, and even now every bust they made was reported in at least one city tabloid. When Egon had alomost been killed, when the old school building had collapsed during a bust, the hospital, as well as the firehouse and the three other Ghostbusters, had been besiged by reporters from tv and newspapers. Some had even tried to invade Egon's privacy, to Peter's fury. One unfortunate reporter had learnt the hard way, not to cross the line, because where these four men were concerned, they looked after one another, no matter what. And while Egon was too weak to fight for himself, the others would provide the extra energy to protect him, to fight for him, and to allow him the time and the privacy to heal.

The media would definitely react badly to the news that two of the four were sleeping togther.

So Egon had left this morning before Peter had woken. Because last night they had been in their own world, their lives were private, their own, and now, in the cold light of day, although their feelings, Peter was certain, had not changed, the situation had. Indiscretions were something they could not afford. Their lives touched those of many others, and everyone had to be considered.

But as the day wore on, and Egon still hadn't returned, Peter was starting to feel that none of the considerations he had earlier been so acutely aware of, actaully mattered. He mattered, and so did Egon. Ray and Winston mattered, as did Janine. But the media could go screw themselves. Peter stood from his office chair and walked across the garage floor to the open door. The snow was falling again; it looked like it was going to be a long winter. *Egon is out there*, he thought to himself. *He's upset, he's confused, he knows if he comes home now he'll have to face me alone, and he doesn't know what to say to me, so he'll stay out there until he can be sure that Ray's home. Then he'll either shut himself away in his lab or stick to Ray like glue, pretending to be fascinated by whatever lightshow Ray was witness to. And later on, Winston will come home and it'll go back to how it was, only the tension will have changed, because now we both know what we're missing.* "I love you, Spengs." He murmured aloud. "I wish you wouldn't hurt alone."

Egon looked over at the firehouse from where he leant against the wall. The snow was coming down quite hard now, and Ray still hadn't returned. Egon knew that if the weather stayed like this for long, there was a chance Ray would put off coming back until the roads were less hazardous. Of course, he would phone to ask them if they needed him immediately, and if not that he would be back by the following evening. They had been through enough bad times together to keep in touch so no undue worry was caused.

Egon shivered. He was getting cold, and he knew he shouldn't really be out here. The doctor had told him that for a week or so he would be very susceptable to illness and colds due to the severe attack his body had had to combat. Last night had been incredable. He and Peter had shared something that went way beyond sex. Not that the sex wouldn't have been enough, but when they'd woken in the night, and shared a kiss of such gentleness, Egon had known that what Peter and he had was something very special, and they were going to have to let it go. New York wouldn't grant them the privacy to love each other as they wanted to, Egon thought bitterly. Fame was inevitable, but stardom wasn't something he had wanted, or asked for, it was something that had been thrown at him and sometimes he believed he would drown in it. When he had been in hospital the last time, and a reporter had disguised himself as an orderly.... If Peter had not recognized him just as he was about to lift the sheets... Egon shivered again. Peter was an effective buffer for them, fielding the questions and keeping the spotlight away from the others, especially Egon. But now and again, people got curious about "the quiet, private" one, and that's when things often turned nasty.

"Peter..." he whispered the name to himself as he watched the firehouse door open and Peter peering outside. *You're looking for me, aren't you? Worried cause you know why I'm out here and you know why I'm scared of coming home, even if it is freezing out here, and the best place I can think of being is in your arms.* Egon watched Peter standing there for some time, before the man took a step back, disappearing from Egon's sight and starting to close the door. A wave of profound lonliness swept through Egon's chilled body. "Peter!"

Peter sighed to himself and stepped back into the warmth, pushing the door closed. He looked up as he heard Egon's familiar bass call to him. A smile broke his set expression as he saw his friend coming running through the snow towards him. He opened the door fully, closing it only when Egon was standing with him, covered in snow, his nose red from cold, his body shivering. Peter immediately helped him off with his coat. "Spengs, you're freezing.... Come on, I'll get the fire on and you can talk me through making hot chocolate." Peter hung Egon's coat and started for the kitchen, but Egon stopped him. "Peter, I'm sorry, about this morning. I thought I could handle it, sleeping with you and then just walking away, us going back to how it was. But when I woke in your arms, it hurt to realize how much I was having to walk away from." Egon was hoping for more, but Peter just nodded, and touched his arm.
"I'll get you that drink."

Standing over the stove, Peter closed his eyes, the image of Egon's face just after his little speech was clear in his mind's eye. There had been so many emotions in his expression, but all were underlaid with a glimmer of hope. Egon *had* felt it too. The love between them that flowed so easily was unmistakable. Could Peter really turn his back on that? Did he want to? No. That was the simple answer to that question. He poured out two mugs and took them into the tv room. Egon was curled into the corner of the sofa, and smiled thankfully up as he accepted the drink. Peter sat down opposite his friend, and for a moment they gazed at each other. Then, just as Egon opened his mouth to say something, Peter reached over and took his hand. "Just answer one question. Do you love me?"
Something akin to hurt crossed Egon's features. "Peter, you know I do...."
"I mean, what we did last night, was it because that's how you feel about me?"
"Yes." Simple, straight, as plain as he knew how to make it.
"In that case, I don't think we should walk away from this."

The drinks set aside, Peter found himself gazing up into deep blue pools of love and adoration. He snuggled further into Egon's embrace, wanting nothing more than to be close to the warm body he was held so tightly to. "About Ray and Winston..." Peter shrugged,
"We'll tell them in our own time."
"And Janine?"
"I'll tell Janine."
"And the media?" Peter looked up at Egon, waiting for an answer. Egon paused for a time, before pretending to realize that Peter had asked a question.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought for a moment that you were suggesting I give a damn about what the media thinks. And we both know what an absurd idea that is."
Peter chuckled, as his mouth was claimed by his lover who kissed him deeply. "I love you, Egon Spengler. Whatever we face from now on, my love for you is complete, and it always will be."

***

Neither heard the car pull away, or the garage door, they just heard the tv room door as Ray opened it and his eyes fell on the two men curled up together watching The Simpsons. He said nothing, but walked around and sat down in the comfy chair. Egon and Peter watched him in trepidation, waiting for some reaction that they could work off. But Ray just watched them back for a second or two before the smile broke out across his face and he sat back, an expression of total smugness plastered across his features. "I knew it!" He said finally. "I told Winston there was something going on between you two and he bet me a pizza that there wasn't. Oh man, I'm gonna get him for the biggest pizza he's ever..." His smug ramblings were cut off by two men wrapping him in fierce hugs. He curled one arm around each body and squeezed. "We love you guys," he said gently. "You don't have to keep this from us."

fin
elfin