By Fire Frog.

/I don't remember being involved in an accident./ Egon thought muzzily. /So why am I wearing a body cast?/ After some careful pondering he realised that he wasn't wearing a body cast, but rather Peter Venkman, who was plastered to his back. The psychologist had his limbs locked round the physicist's body in a firm embrace.

As Egon considered the best way to extract himself the hushed voices of Ray and Winston floated to him from the other side of the room. Somewhat discomforted the nervous blond decided to play possum and listen to what they said.

"I don't believe it," Winston gave a soft whistle. "They slept on their sides all night. The firehouse hasn't been so quiet since that class five got in and sucked all the sound waves away."

"I know," Ray grinned. "It's so cute! I hope they sleep like that all the time, just so the snoring stops!" They tip toed out the door, chuckling softly.

/Humph! I don't snore!/ Egon thought irritably. /I 'breathe deeply'./

Then all thoughts of unjust accusations went out the window as Egon was hit by a sudden wave of nausea. He fought it back, reluctant to leave the comfortable position he had acquired at Peter's side. Unexpectedly, this worked. It was possible, he supposed, that his earlier fear of the unexpected had added to his morning sickness. Now that he knew what it was he could, to an extent, control it.

Egon settled further into Peter's clam like embrace and sighed. Usually an early riser the scientist decided to indulge Peter just this once and stay where he was. With an indulgent feeling of largess over this sacrifice for his love, he soon fell back to sleep.

**

When they finally got up Peter called Doctor Turnbull from his office and explained about the genie and what they suspected had been done to Egon.

"The police contacted me earlier." Turnbull admitted. "They wanted to know if there was any indication of a violent domestic situation. I told them that I did not believe so, however there have been several instances of injuries - deep bruising and such - that I know occurred during your work. If they should be taken by a court order they could be looked at the wrong way. I know that you all receive similar injuries, but an outsider reading Doctor Spengler's case file could easily get the wrong impression."

"Damn. Ah well, it can't be helped. Look, we got Ray working on a way to get back into Fairyland so we can have the Genie to come over and give a statement to the police. That should get some people off our backs. Thanks for all your help, doc. I know it hasn't been easy, especially that incident at your private clinic...."

"Don't worry about that. Most New Yorker's are used to ghost evacuations by now, and it highlighted some escape rout problems we should address before our next building inspection is performed. I am honoured to help the Ghostbusters in whatever way I can." The sincerity rang true in his voice, giving Peter a moment of pause. Wasn't often his crew got a compliment like that, he'd definately pass it on to the guys.

"Thanks, doc. We hope to have everything sorted out soon. You've been a huge help. If ever you need us, just call." Peter put the phone down then gently began banging his head on the table.

He was still being investigated for possible partner abuse. God, how did he get himself into these situations? /Easy,/ he told himself with furious self-loathing, /by being a homophobic arsehole more concerned about what other people would think than about claiming the one I love. I should have damn well gone to him earlier, laid it out on the line. Now we'll both have this hanging over our heads whenever we think of the way our romance started, when if I'd just been a man about it...God./

Peter broke off and rubbed his tired face with both hands. He was an idiot, and Egon had to suffer for his stupid timidity. Damn. He couldn't even blame Spengler for any of this either, which was plain annoying. Egon had gone ahead and made that leap, which he, Peter, had been so afraid of.

Egon had given his hint that he was interested in more than just friendship - something that must have cost him dearly, especially as his blockheaded paramour had missed the point. Christ, it wasn't like Spengler could just come out and tell him he wanted to date, the guy had been so emotionally repressed when he was a kid that it was a wonder he could function in the real world at all.

The blond scientist had been pushed out of his comfort zone just sharing the bed with Peter the night before. Any more than that, if say Peter had tried to casually grope him under the covers, then the man would have bolted.

Oddly Peter had woken up completely liberated from his former reluctance to acknowledge his desires for the scientist. He'd been flirting outrageously since this morning, which he knew Egon liked, yet still trying to hold back because although Spengler had been the first of them to say 'I love you', Peter knew his natural reserve for such things was a great deal higher than his own.

Luckily Peter had enough gushy sentimentality for both of them, his personal brand of brash courtship should make up for Egon's shy ways. Why, he'd got the scientist in bed with him already, hadn't he?

Ah, last night! Venkman had woken up feeling a new man. Ha - hahaha! Feeling a new man - get it? Hoo, he was in the zone now. It had been extremely difficult not to wake his new sweetheart with a lip-smacking, tonsil whacking kiss. But it was fated not to be, Ray had come into the room chasing down some clean socks (and why was he looking in 'Peter's drawer for 'em?) So he had settled on a peck on the cheek for his bed companion and a hand out to the bathroom where he had listened good humouredly to the sound of Spengler heaving up his guts.

Winston had made some dry toast for breakfast, which the doc had recommended for Egon's morning sickness, and they had guilted Egon into eating it. Ray had even made up a little sign and stuck it on the refrigerator. It was a picture of a foetus munching on a carrot stick (possibly a carrot stick - with Ray's sketching and culinary skills, they weren't asking). Under the picture were the words 'Have you fed your baby this morning?' He'd got the idea off the Internet.

As Egon doggedly munched his way through the toast, Peter had watched him with stary eyes and again held himself back from displaying public affection. He wanted to give Egon an encouraging kiss on the forehead, and perhaps break the toast up into little bits and feed it to him. But he had to keep reminding himself not to, at least not in front of the others. It made Egon uneasy.

Spengler had confessed to him once that he had never seen his parents show affection to each other, except for a peck on the cheek at Christmas. Peter's folks may have been a little less than faithful to each other at times, but they had been in love, and shown it. Their kisses, as well as their arguments, were always passionate.

Egon's parents were cool and detached, their love, if they felt any, had been a thing kept firmly behind closed doors. The young Egon had been greatly influenced by this behaviour and regarded emotional displays with suspicion, which is where Janine had always gone wrong.

/Janine. Shit. Shit, shit, shit./ Egon had insisted on breaking the news after breakfast and she hadn't stopped glaring at Peter since. He was waiting for the verbal abuse to begin, but for now she was letting her eyes do the talking. They were saying 'Peter Venkman, you are a dead man.'

And still, with all the worry and the stress, Peter had never felt happier in his life before. Egon loved him, had slept the night in his bed, had Peter's child in his belly. All good things.

Yep, despite everything Peter was swelling with a kind of, well, it was a bit cheesy to admit it - but a kind of 'joyous pride'. He'd never felt anything like it. Not even when Ghostbusters had started making the big time, or when they got their first Government assignment, or been invited aboard the space project.

/This must be love,/ he smiled to himself. In another life Peter had thought he'd loved Dana Barrett, and a hundred women besides her. What that had really been, what he had felt then, was nothing, nothing, like what he felt now. This was new, this was brilliant, this was birdsong and pizza and the best seats at the Mets game all rolled into one! This was Looooove!

Not that he and his sweetie didn't have issues. Egon thought of their kid as a giant parasite sucking him dry - big issue number one. A really big one, a...who was he kidding?

A small smile curled the corner of the psychologist's mouth. Nothing could derail his happiness right now. He'd got Egon up the duff. True, he'd never laid a finger on him in lust, but even so! No possible future problem to come could put a dent in this!

He felt like a stud. Oh yeah. The Venkman was so potent he could father kids just thinking about it. He was the man, with balls were so big they clanged when he walked.

Peter sighed contentedly. Time to go up and check on his budding soul mate. They'd been apart for nearly two hours now, the pressure was starting to tell. He jogged up the stairs whistling, (after carefully circumnavigating Janine's desk) then sauntered over to the lab, slowing as the sound of a crashing toolbox assaulted his ears.

"What's going on? Ray, you invite your thrash metal band friends around for coffee again?" Peter held his hands over his abused ears before entering into 'The Land of Cannibalised Lab Equipment'^(TM). Bits and pieces of vaguely recognisable things sat around the room, mostly with their innards ripped out and scattered along the bench tops.

"Ray! That's an analytical balance!" Peter gasped, identifying one of the ravaged bits of machinery. "Do you know how much one of those costs? Gah!...the spectroscope! No! The, the really expensive thing that goes 'bing'!...Hey, Janine's clock radio - you are gonna be in sooo much trouble, pal. What are you guys doing!!"

"Just creating an inter-dimensional portal from the mortal continuum to that of Fairy, Peter. No need to worry, Egon and me have got it under control." Ray smiled at him reassuringly, stripping the plastic coating from a bunch of electrical wires with a wire cutter. He began twitching the exposed wires together with their opposite numbers on what looked like a game board with lights and a big pop button in the middle. This was attached to a huge junk mettle wading pool that had been turned on its side.

"That thing?" Peter indicated the monstrosity of teetering bits.

"That thing." Ray confirmed.

"Oh."

"We're calling it a Stellar Teleporting Apparition Reconnoitre Gate." Ray added.

"A, ah ... a STAR-Gate, right? Ray, you are so bad. This pop up thing do anything, or is it just part of your fanboy-fantasy-life-made-real?" Peter prodded the game piece welded into the middle of the instrument panel, and rolled an 'E'.

Ray grinned at him and shrugged. Grumbling softly Peter searched the rest of the labs altered landscape and eventually spotted Egon carefully prying loose the cover of an old fashioned stand up computer with genuine reel to reel memory storage. An item that should be sold for vast amounts to a grateful computer museum, not scavenged for parts. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and counted to ten.

Thus, instead of the melodramatic cry of 'Take my arm, it would hurt less!' he was able to whisper the far more romantic line "Hi, beautiful" into his potential boyfriends ear instead.

Egon looked up, his eyes warming when he saw Peter standing there. "Hello yourself, Doctor Venkman."

"So, whatcha doin?" Peter indicated the antique computer. He'd wondered what the guys had been hauling upstairs all this morning. Now he knew, all the old stuff they'd kept in storage from their professorship at Columbia University. He let Egon's deep voice drift over him as he reminisced, letting his mind wonder off to other things.

"Are you listening to me?" Egon asked, becoming aware that Peter's eyes had glazed over.

"You have great hands." Peter sighed. Egon looked at him curiously and the psychologist blushed. Even Ray stoped what he was doing to look over and raise an eyebrow at him.

"So, ah, how long till we make contact with Fairyland, guys?" Peter spoke jovially, trying to distract everyone from the fact that he'd just been mooning over Spengler like a teen with his first crush.

"Not long." Dismissing Peter's odd behaviour, Ray held up a soldering iron and grinned happily. "Another two or three days should do it. Shame we couldn't use magic like the Genie did." He gave Peter an almost resentful scowl. Ray didn't know why the others hated it when he played with the occult, it was just so much fun! And he knew a butcher that could get them a litre of goat's blood easy....

"Hey, Peter, remember this?" shrugging aside his disappointment, Ray indicated an old battery hooked up to several tan and gold electrodes.

"Yeah, I do indeed." Venkman stepped over for a closer look. "It's my experimental shock re-enforced psychic analyser. Now this baby never blew up on me. Ah, Columbia, those were the days."

"Were they ever. Remember that time we brought that second hand gigercounter and it blew out the side of the bike shed, Egon?" Ray grinned enthusiastically.

"The bike shed?" asked Winston, carting what looked like a beauty saloon's hair drier into the middle of the room.

"We were attempting to establish if one of the Professors was a demon, Winston." Egon informed him levelly, going back to unscrewing the antique computers front plate.

Peter made a dramatic face for Winston's benefit. He remembered that incident now, the two mad scientists had nearly been suspended over that one. Peter Venkman had had to do some damn fine talking that day, as he reminded his pals loudly.

"Talking of talking, Pete. Janine said to tell you there's someone to see ya down stairs."

"Okay, thanks Zed." Cradling his psychic re-enforcer to his chest Peter circled back to plant a quick kiss on Egon's neck as the other man bent over his work. Surprised Egon glanced up and Peter winked at him before escaping out the door.

**

Janine was sitting before the computer console, patently feigning busy typing. Peter knew when she was really typing because like him she only used two fingers. They were pretty fast fingers, though.

Sitting at the customer's bench sat Mr. Floome, head of the local pro-active society.

"It's about the bins again, Doctor V." Janine chirped, snapping out a row of x's on the machine. "Apparently Slimer hasn't been doing his usual garbage run, and they want him back."

"Yes." Floome, a large man of the butchering profession (you could tell this by the fact that he only had one thumb left) stood and faced the Ghostbuster with indignation. "Our bins are overflowing! Why has the ghost been stopped from doing this service? We, the community, demand that he recommence at once!"

Peter looked at Janine incredulously, but she just smiled slyly and typed 'snug, snug sloor' with practised ease. How could she know what was going on, her look said. She was just the secretary.

Peter realised his mouth was hanging open in surprise and shut it. He was used to people complaining because Slimer had eaten their garbage, not because he hadn't.

The spud had been put on a strict diet of candy, bread and cake for the duration of Egon's...confinement. You are what you eat and the thought of the blond man spooning up goop that had been garbage mounds moments before had turned his friends stomachs.

Slimer had happily given up garbage in return for hot and cold running donuts. The GB's budget would just have to make up for the extra spending by charging more for their services. As a mater of fact, that gave Peter an idea.

"I'm sorry sir, but our ghost has been hired by the town environment group to scour the parklands for refuse. He should be free in a few months time. Unless, of coarse, you can top the environmentalists offer?"

"This is an outrage!" Floome snapped, "We had the service first!"

"Free of charge, I might add." Peter smiled cunningly. "We could always charge retrospectively for the fee, thus giving you the first rights to Slimers services."

"How dare you!" Floome yelled, jumping to his feet. "We will not be blackmailed!" and he stomped out.

"And we wont be used as free labour." Peter called to his departing back. "We're Ghostbusters, pal! Not garbologists!"

"Guy's a jerk." Janine concluded with a sniff.

"Yeah." Peter looked at their secretary from the corner of his eye, only to find she was doing the same to him.

Their almost glances communicated what confrontational face offs didn't. It was something they had done from the beginning, they used it to reach subliminal agreements, get boundaries set. A truce wasn't quite made, this time, but something like a truce, something like siblings would agree to when their family was being attacked by forces outside and they had to put their differences away for the greater good. Peter opened his mouth to say something vaguely complimentary on Janine's hair as she steeled herself into overlooking that he had stolen her planned future husband.

Just then Egon came trotting down the stairs, a stack of petri dishes balanced in his arms. He hustled past them without a look, it wasn't until he reached Ecto and fumbled out a key that they realised he wasn't going down to the lower lab.

"What? Whoa, pullover red Rover! Where you off to in such a hurry?" Peter called, looking at him in alarm.

"The zoo just called, an exciting discovery has been made - their African elephant died last night and on examination its lungs were found to be full of spores!" Egon opened Ecto's side door and poured the flat, circular glass cases into the seat, then sprinted round to the other side and threw open the drivers door, sliding in behind the wheel. "I must get some before it begins to decay - that animal will not have died in vein - science will see to that!"

"Egon! Shouldn't you be lying down? Turnbull mentioned something about low blood pressure!" Peter yelled, making his way over as the physicist drew the safety belt across his body and turned the ignition key.

"Can't stop now, Peter. Corkman is undoubtable also on the case, I must get there before him." Egon burned rubber as he pulled out of Ghostbuster Central's double front doors and strait into traffic. Rutherford Corkman was Egon's rival in matters sporal in New York City, and Spengler was loathed to grant him freedom to contaminate the site and ruin the sample. Also, letting the little toad get the drop on him was not part of Egon's life plan.

Peter stood and watched as the smoke settled, horror likewise settling over his face.

"My sweetie is driving Ecto One," he moaned through numb lips. "Lead foot Spengler is out in traffic while hauling an extra load! Why didn't I stop him? Winston is going to kill me!"

"Who took the car?"

Speak of the devil - Winston slid down the fire pole and stared at the empty spot where Ecto ought to be.

"Now, don't get mad." Peter said, backing towards the stairway.

"Egon took Ecto?" Winston's scowl deepened with concern. "Why didn't somebody go with him? He shouldn't be alone right now, especially after that hospital thing. What if they try and snatch him again?"

"He was too fast." Janine explained, then wished she'd kept quiet as the annoyed black man turned his glare from Venkman to her.

"Well next time be faster. Grab ahold of him until one of us can wrestle the keys off him, or at least jump in the car so he's not alone!"

"Yes Winston," Janine said meekly.

"Peter." Zeddemore snapped, trying to locate the other Ghostbuster.

"Just ordering up a cab." Venkman stepped from the shadows he'd retreated to and indicated the mobile phone in his hand. Winston gave a grudging nod of approval. They both waited impatiently then scrambled awkwardly into the cab when it turned up, ordering it in one voice to head towards the nearest zoo.

**

"That was disgusting." Peter complained, putting his armful of petri dishes on the kitchen table.

Egon was humming as he re-arranged the Ghostbusters deluxe sized fridge in order to make room for his latest finds. He surreptitiously dumped all of Rays left over 'meat ball surprise' in the garbage bag he had for that purpose, reasonably sure the others would thank him for the loss later on.

"For once I agree with you." Winston grimaced, remembering Egon and the zoo vet rummaging in the open lung tissue of the deceased pachyderm. Blech!

"Egon, my cherished morsel, you're not going to run off like that again, are you?" Peter's voice still held a note of his, their, earlier concern.

"And risk having you and Winston track me down and remonstrate at me in stereo once more?" Egon asked mildly, turning to raise an eyebrow at them. "No, I think not. Besides, I strongly doubt that such a fascinating occurrence shall happen again." He looked fondly, almost gloatingly, at the little containers Peter and Winston were stacking gingerly on the table. If he had been a different sort of person he would have been up on that table doing the snoopy dance about now. He indulged in a small smile instead.

"Right." Peter gave him a doubtful look. Egon was saying the right things, things that other people would have taken as reassuring, but with a Spengler you just never knew. It was quite possible Egon was having this conversation on autopilot while the majority of his attention was busy plotting spore tests and denoting scientific thesis. He'd have to keep an eye on the errant physicist, just in case...

**

"You know, those nutjobs just might try to grab Egon again." Winston said taking another sip from his coffee mug.

The mad scientist under discussion was ensconced in his laboratory, surrounded by notebooks and petri dishes full of spores. The rest of the team sprawled round the card table next to Janine's desk. They usually waited there for the next bust to come in, but right now they were here because they knew it was far enough away form Egon so that the touchy scientist wouldn't catch them talking about him.

"They never got to do whatever it was they wanted to do to him, and to risk what they did," Winston shook his head to show his disbelief at the whole situation, "Well, they might be crazy enough to have another go."

"What did they want with Egon any way?" Janine asked, squaring some forms by tapping their edges on the desk. There was a slight marring of her normally smooth forehead, the memory of Egon in that hospital bed had given her nasty dreams. "They weren't just torturing him for the hell of it. Were they?"

"I had a word with Alanna Wolf when we got back from the great spore hunt, she seems to think they may have been doing just that." Peter informed them soberly. He'd been exceptionally quiet after that phone call and the others had been hoping he would spill the beans to them soon. Looked like they were going to get their wish.

"The bastards were hoping their rough treatment would cause a spontaneous abortion. The rough handling, the blood letting - not all of it went for testing - and the stress of being confined could have triggered one. They didn't want to perform an abortion outright - as that would be wrong according to their religious view, but if Egon accidentally lost the baby...."

"Their hands would be clean, their souls untainted by murder." Winston looked angry, his voice - although controlled - held just enough edge in it to make the others take note. "What else did they do, Pete? You had a look on your face after that call...we need to know."

"Can't keep anything from you anyway, Zed." Peter shot him a grim smile. "I got the roll call for the procedures they performed on him. Listen up, its not a pretty list. Egon had two needles poked in him to take samples from the placenta and the amniotic fluid, a round or three of ultrasound's, to many blood tests, urine tests, a 'pelvic area' exam, rectal probe...no wonder he's refusing to go back to the hospital for any more check ups. I'm worried about that, actually. He needs to have regular monitoring, but he's too apprehensive to go in for it."

Peter looked at his hands for a minute before meeting their eyes again. "The scary part is that he might be right," he admitted, voice low with anxiety. "There could still be people at the hospital who might do him or the baby harm."

"What are we gonna do?" Ray asked, his eyes showing his worry plainly. "Can we hire body guards?"

"I can't see Egon letting us do that." Winston protested.

"He might have to." Peter intoned grimly. "When this hits the press, and it will, its a miracle it hasn't happened already, we'll have every kind of screwball on our backs. From fundamentalists saying what we're doing is against nature and god, to feminist groups that think guys are secretly out to steal their 'unique' genetic heritage. I've - ah - been surfing the net, getting a feel for the public outlook on the issue. We won't have a lot of supporters out there."

/That must have been some phone call, to get you using the 'damned machine'./ Winston thought glumly. Peter and computers generally didn't mix. "Any good news?" he asked.

"Sorta. Remember that paternity test?" Peter looked down at his hands and rubbed at one thumbnail distractedly. "Turns out the social worker wasn't as truthful as she could have been. My DNA was clear, but they can't read the rest of it at all."

"So that emphasises our case that the baby is the result of magical intervention, right?" Ray pointed out happily. "It'll get the cops off our backs."

Peter didn't look up. "It also means the egg might not have come form Egon's mom. He's going through all this and it might not be our...his kid. He's gonna hate me."

"I hate you." Janine chirped from her desk, and Winston shot her a warning look.

"Peter," he grabbed the other mans arm and shook it a little. "How many times I gonna have to tell you this, Egon's coping. I think he likes you well enough to go through with this even if it is just 'your' kid. Stop seeing the negative - it's starting to get on my nerves. I'm thinking of getting Ray here to run a scan on you to make sure you really are Peter and not some doppelganger."

"I can do that!" Ray enthused, jogging over to the lockers and rummaging around in their depths.

Winston leaned forwards, his next words for Peter alone. "Stop living in Whatif Land. Egon might not get as sick as you think, and the public might decide this is great instead of stringing us all up to telegraph poles." Winston winced /Way to bring up your own fears, fool./ "But he will get spooked by the vibes you've been sending off, so cool it. We can get through this. It's worth it, right?"

Peter sighed agreement. Ray came bouncing back towards them, meter in hand, when he stopped and looked at something behind them. They turned and watched as Egon gingerly descended the stairs.

The tall Ghostbusters pants had the top button undone and they were partially unzipped, his pink shirt was unbuttoned and untucked as well, giving him a rumpled look they were not used to from their normally neat and tidy scientist. A strip of pale skin could be seen peeking through. It was marred by bruising around a central puncture wound, but other than that small blemish on his tummy, Egon looked - good.

The light shone on his platinum blond hair, glinted off pale coloured eyebrows and eyelashes. He'd taken off his glasses to rub at the bridge of his nose and it made him look vulnerable and young. This impression was reinforced by the fact that he had removed his shoes and was walking towards them bare foot. Egon looked unsettled when he realised that the others had turned to gape at him.

"Hmm, yes. Ah, I need some new clothes," he informed them morosely.

"Shopping!" Janine squealed, leaping to her feet and gathering up her things, flipping on the teams answering machine as an afterthought.

"Oh." Peter said, blinking once, slowly. Something in his chest was shifting. Egon really did look good.

**

The mall, center of American culture. It was a busy and happening place, with every conceivable kind of shop located close to hand. Three Ghostbusters stood at the entryway, nervously eyeing the milling throng. After their talk about bodyguards they didn't want to leave Egon here alone - but...clothes shopping? With Janine and Egon?

They were not happy campers, but it couldn't be helped. Janine pushed them by, dragging a reluctant physicist behind her.

"I won't wear women's clothing." Egon reiterated.

"The styles in the pregnancy range are limited anyway." Janine told him coolly, heading towards their first destination, a shoe shop. Expensive, black, soft leather 'business' moccasins were purchased and placed on Egon's feet, replacing his normal ones that were rubbing at his slightly swollen ankles and toes.

One triumph behind her Janine next led the way to a menswear shop, the guys trailing along behind like lost sheep.

The shop catered for the larger figured man with an eye to comfort and style. They soon dispersed into its elegant interior, checking out the various clothing racks.

"Hey, Egon, you should try these out." Peter held up a pair of jeans temptingly. "They're stretch fit, they'll be perfect!"

"I don't like jeans." Egon sniffed. "They make me look...gawky."

Peter blinked. Okay, so Egon must have tried them when he was a teenager, why else would he use that particular label to describe the results? And all this time they'd thought he was just style challenged.

"How about these?" Ray held up a pair of super chic black pants with creases you could cut bread with.

"The waist is nipped in. I loath having tight things around my waist." Egon grumped, frowning at the pants in disapproval.

/And that explains the suspenders he always wears./ surmised Peter, who had always wondered why Egon didn't simply buy a belt. He'd concluded that it was a part of Egon's rebellious nature - pink shirted, red spectacle wearing, big haired intellect that he was. At least the guy's bow tie wearing days had been short lived. Though, when he thought about it, a geek in a bow tie was sort of a hot image. A geek in nothing but a bow tie....

/Egon's got a tender tum, the things you learn while shopping./ Peter tried to distract himself with the thought, but it was to late. Sexy bow ties had lured his mind back; back to the vision of Egon descending the stairs with his clothes all disarrayed. Peter swallowed, hard.

The image had been flashing through his mind ever since it had happened and he'd been firmly pulling away from it, but what the hell. He tentatively replayed the scene, allowing himself to think forbidden thoughts.

In his minds eye Egon stood again on the stairs, shirt open, pants undone, bare feet, slightly more bare midriff on display than there had been in reality. And this time the others weren't there so Peter went to him, climbing the stairs until he was one step above, then turning to enfold him in his arms. Peter let his hands move softly over the crisp cotton of Egon's shirt, stroking and soothing until he managed to get inside the front panels and touch warm flesh.

One hand continued the caresses, while the other slid down to hook over the partially open zipper and rest there. Peter kissed Egon's neck, coaxing him backwards to lean on his partner. Egon did it, sighing as Peter took his weight. Peter imagined himself allowing his fingers to play along the zippers seam, quipping playfully 'Is that a proton gun in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?' Then he would push down and slide the zipper open while....

"Pardon me, Tinkerbell, but your Peter Pan is showing." Winston's voice, so close to his ear, snapped the fantasising man back to reality.

"Huh?" he said, intelligently.

"We are in the middle of a shop, Venkman. You've been staring at Egon like he's a candy cane for the last five minutes, and you have the boner from hell pointing the way as well."

Peter realised that was where the ache/pleasure he'd been feeling came from, his dick was risking 'dismemberment by constriction' in hopes of being able to pop free and make its way to Egon's side. Great.

"Nobody else has noticed." Winston assured him. "But you might want to consider a visit to the mall's facilities. They're that way." Zed jerked his shoulder towards the toilets, handing the flustered psychologist a free catalogue to hide his 'predicament' behind, as he made his somewhat slow and stately way out the shop.

"Peter all right?" Ray asked, popping his head around a rack of antique Hawaiian shirts.

"Peter is Peter." Winston sighed. "How's it going over there?"

"Not well, Egon doesn't like anything here." Ray sighed. "I wish I had so many great clothes to chose from. Nobody makes clothes in my size. This stuff is mostly for tall guys. Janine used to date a weight-lifter and he came here for casual wear, that's how she knew about this place."

Ray lent over, dropping his voice conspiratorially. "You should see how she's working the sales assistant! I'm definitely taking Janine on my next swap meet!"

"I thought I was going with you." Winston grumbled, pouting just a little. Sheesh, now that their secretary wasn't after their blond scientist it looked like she might make a play for their red headed one!

Ray gave him an odd look, then smiled brightly as Peter came back to join them. The three of them made their way to the change room which Janine had just bundled Egon into, Peter and Winston being careful not to make eye contact with each other.

An hour later they left with a small stack of clothes for Egon, a knit jumper with baseball bat motif for Winston and an overcoat that Zed had helped find for Ray. It made the youngest Ghostbuster look like an undercover agent and he spent the rest of the day talking into his coats sleeve. Peter had quietly purchased a couple of multi coloured bow ties that he hid in his pockets. A guy could dream, right?

**

Instead of going home the Ghostbusters headed for a different mall Peter knew of, with a tailor shop where they could have the new clothes gone over for a final fitting and get the alterations done 'while you waited'.

Egon endured being measured calmly, a look of boredom quickly settling over his long face as the shop assistants buzzed round him like bee's at a sunflower. The measurements were then sent to the backroom where the new garments were literally pulled apart and reassembled. Knowing everything was in good hands Peter talked the guy's into going for a quick grocery run instead of just sitting around in the waiting room. They headed to the other side of the mall, where the Supermarket loomed.

When they got there Egon commandeered the shopping cart and led the assault, pulling Peter out of the home made beer isle (where Peter had a vague yet compulsive need to stand in awe and worship) and then Ray from the toy isle. They left Janine in the stationary isle drooling over a selection of pens and gathered up their edible goods as quickly as they could.

Winston was lost briefly in automotive accessories, but Egon marshalled him to attack the bread and cereals, with Ray as back up, then rewarded them all (and himself) with a ten-minute spree in the sweet section. It was a rather rewarding expedition.

Later in the tailor shop the others gathered around to see the results of the tailors fevered working.

"Well, how do I look?" Egon asked, more curious at the looks on his friends faces than concerned for his own appearance.

"You look fine." Winston reassured him. Peter knew if he opened his mouth he'd gibber in adoration, so he decided to do nothing but nod agreement, as Janine and Ray chimed in with praise.

/I have got to do something with all this stuff I'm feeling./ Peter thought, adjusting himself discreetly. Egon in form hugging clothes always made him feel good, now he knew why, and it wasn't because he felt pride for the affect his friend had on the ladies (sheesh, how many years had he gone telling himself that one? He'd been blind, blind!)

On the trip home Egon felt wearied after all that shopping and casually leant his head on Peter's shoulder for a nap. It was a practice that they had both used at times, yet Peter felt moved by it as never before. The scent of Egon's hair was thoroughly intoxicating him, and he worried about maintaining his gentlemanly restraint come bedtime.

**

Peter turned to Egon that night and regarded him with a slightly lecherous look as the taller man dressed for bed.

"That nightgown isn't getting a bit to constrictive, is it?" He asked slyly, wriggling his eyebrows salaciously. "Because, you know, you don't have to wear it."

Egon smiled to himself as he slid beneath the covers. He had wondered if Peter would begin using innuendo soon. That he had finally done so made the taller man feel more secure. After all, it was Peter's usual modus operandi when trying to woo his dates.

"I am quite comfortable, doctor Venkman, thank you for inquiring. I feel my clothes are still quite appropriate. Now, you may kiss me good night, if you wish, Winston and Ray are going over the...mmmph!"

He could say no more as Peter Venkman had his tongue in the way - most inconvenient of him. However, as Egon had just invited him to do so, the scientist decided not to make an issue of it, and simply lay back and enjoyed the experience. Peter was a most talented kisser.

By the time Winston and Ray came in the two men were wrapped around each other, fast asleep. Egon looked smugly contented, as did Peter.

**

Peter opened his eyes, something was wrong. He - was alone. Executing a near vertical take-off from the bed he sped out to the hallway, pausing there to listen for any sign as to where his missing scientist had got to.

First, he had to slow his own heart rate down so he could hear over it, but eventually he made out noises coming from the recreation room. Charging over he found Egon, resplendently enthroned upon the couch, dressed in his ankle length nightgown, slippers upon his feet, a feast fit for a king spread around him.

Smiling happily Slimer hovered over the seated man, the little ghost placing out more food from the refrigerator and confining himself to eating only any leftovers Egon might have overlooked.

Spengler was just putting to one side the remains of a roast duck, which Slimer pounced on and ate, bones and all, when Peter showed up.

"It would appear that I am currently the victim of gravid verocity," Egon told him solemnly, forking up the contents of a Chinese take-away carton.

"Owch, is it painful?" Peter asked nervously, moving to sit next to him on the couch. The TV was on, volume turned right down, showing a man preparing a piglet for roasting. The look of the tiny white carcase made Peter's skin crawl and he used the remote to change channels to a gardening show.

"I believe it will only become painful if the food no-longer keeps coming." Egon told him, licking plum sauce off his lips. Peter licked his own lips reflectively.

"I love you," he said, doperly.

"I love you too, Peter. Please pass the cheese whip." Peter handed it over and their fingers brushed in transit. Egon smiled at him. "Actually, I am about done here. I shall merely finish off the last of this lemon meringue pie, thank you Slimer, and then return to bed. Would you like to share some pie with me?"

Egon held out a slice of pie. Peter locked eyes with his friend, hesitating a second before taking the offering. More than pie was being proffered here, he felt fairly certain, but what exactly the proposal entailed, he couldn't say.

Just then he was swept by the knowledge that he had never found anyone to be as attractive as Egon was, right this very moment. The taller man was a beloved, murky presence in the half-light of the television screen. Whatever Egon wanted of him, he would try to give it.

"I'd love to eat pie with you, Egon." His voice came out huskier than he had intended, making him blush. Egon smiled at him and took a mouthful of the rich dessert. Peter followed suit and they watched each other, and ate the pie, until it was all gone. Then, hand in hand, they went back to their shared bed and snuggled down together for the night.

Sighing contentedly Slimer ate up all the leftovers, then went to get his special pillow and blanket, hovering in the middle of the Ghostbusters bedroom as he prepared to nap. He spent a little while watching the humans that were in his care, who had likewise taken a lonely little ghost into their home, and sighed contentedly.

In the morning there were a lot of slime covered dishes to wash up, but Peter cleared them away without a single complaint.

**

The next day grew cloudy and the wind began to rise, heralding a coming storm. Winston and Ray went out on a bust, taking Slimer as a food shield, being as the haunting was at a deli. Janine made a cup of country soup and settled down to blitz the solitaire game on her computer once again, her little corner of the fire house warmed by the glow of an oil heater that Ray had rigged up for her last winter. Peter decided to make a move.

"I'm going down to the wharf to eat and watch the storm come in, wanna come?" Peter fluttered his eyelashes at his companion beguilingly.

"Is Slimer coming?" Egon asked, busily making notes in a notebook.

"Er, no." Peter replied cautiously. "He went with Ray and Winston."

"I'll be down in a minute." Egon was as fond of the little ghost as anyone, but the spud had been rather clingy at breakfast and a meal free of a cold ectoplasm soaked shoulder sounded nice.

"Cool, meet you out the front by my car." Peter headed for the stairs.

"I thought it was still in the auto repair shop." Egon called, making Peter stop and turn back.

"Yeah, but I've picked up a courtesy car. They offered before, but I decided not to take them up on it. Changed my mind." He shrugged and continued his journey.

Nodding absently Egon put the notebook aside and tidied up his work space. Taking up his 'Professor' jacket, the one with the patches on the elbows, he hurried down stairs.

He made his way outside the building, going towards where he felt the replacement car would be, expecting to find something racy to stand in for his friends ruined sports car.

What he found was a well-appointed family sedan. He turned surprised eyes on his partner. Peter shrugged, abashed.

"Just thought, you know, we'd try it out," he admitted diffidently.

"It...appears very roomy." Egon commented.

"Yeah. It drives well, has a high safety rating too. Um, hop in, we'll swing by that seafood place and grab lunch, then go to the wharf."

Egon slid into the side seat, an odd feeling half way between happiness and apprehension making him tense. Peter talked as they drove along, his usual meandering soliloquy that required nothing more than the occasional response to his more outrageous claims to prove that you were listening.

The food was picked up and the aroma of chilli and garlic sauces soon filled the air. It was a good thing he stopped when he did, or Peter would have had to contend with a hungry Spengler wrestling open the food containers as they drove along.

Egon ate contentedly and they both watched as the storm drew closer to the city. The grey green water burst angrily against the wharfs pylons, throwing spray high into the air.

The wind howled, remorseless in its cold fury. They watched, snug and secure in their vehicle, only its occasional rocking any indication of their safe havens vulnerability.

Peter finished his pineapple rings in beer batter and licked his fingers free of grease. Egon watched him from the corners of his eyes, having an odd compulsion to offer to lick his fingers for him.

/I must be hungrier than I thought./ he mused, sucking the flesh from a crayfish leg and reaching for another.

"So, Egon." Peter looked directly at his partner, causing the taller man to freeze, nude crayfish flesh hanging from his mouth. Peter blinked at the sight, but continued on valiantly, "How you feeling about all this, really?"

The crayfish got slurped up and Egon chewed it thoughtfully before tendering his reply. This was an unexpected opportunity to unburden himself of his concerns.

"Really, Peter? Really, it is somewhat too surreal to encompass." Egon licked his lips and put aside the neatly scavenged crustacean carapace.

"It comes at me in odd moments, just how surreal it all is. I find myself at once thrust deep into a relationship that but a few months ago I had given up on, my body has been designated a hatchery without my consent and...well, I am unsure of my direction.

If my life were a play no film maker would ever deem it worthy of taking to the screen, it beggars belief. What happens next, Peter? What happens to Ghostbusters, our reputations, our careers, the people that depend on us to stop the world being over run by demons and bogeymen? Where are our successors; for if not us, who will guard the gate between the worlds? No others have the resources or the equipment, and few would have the stomach for such punishing weirdness. We are needed, and I am not ready to lay down this burden just yet."

Egon fiddled with the remains of their seafood repast, which had ended mostly strewn over his side of the front seat, indeed, mostly in his lap. He crammed as many of the used containers as he could into one of the take-away bags and stuffed it under the seat, then dabbed at a spot of white sauce on his jumper. Eventually the silence got to him and he look over to see how Peter was reacting to his words.

"You wont have to put down the burden." Peter told him gently. "I wouldn't ask that of you. If it comes to it I'll stay home and look after the kid. I want that, it feels right. But Egon," he said earnestly. "If you don't want to be a hatchery, you don't have to be. I will still love you. I know the others are excited about this, but for medical reasons I think an abortion may be the right thing to do, because it probably wouldn't...mmmph."

Egon put his hand over the other mans mouth to quiet him. "There has never been a moment of doubt in my mind, that if I should prove to be pregnant I would carry the resultant child for as long as I could, hopefully to delivery. Though I am glad to hear you say that it is not a condition of your love for me...."

Peter reached up and captured the hand at his mouth, kissing it tenderly. "Never that. I've always loved you, one way or another. C'mer, let me show you." He tugged a little and drew Egon closer to him. With pounding heart he tasted the gently pouting lips and the sweet breath of the man he wanted to live the rest of his life with. Oh, and to have lots of nookie with, too....

The kiss was leisurely and heated and Peter eventually pulled away to descend by tiny licks and kisses on Egon's neck.

/I'm making out in a car - with Egon, science nerd supreme. Mmmm, he tastes nice..../ Peter sucked hungrily at the base of that long throat, leaving a discreet hickey, before heading downwards. He'd undone Egon's buttons single handed while they kissed and now had free access to Egon's chest. He was licking slowly over one erect nipple, his fingers busy tweaking the other one, when he felt Egon stiffen and tug at his hair.

"Sorry, sorry, you're right, too public, too soon, sorry." Peter backed off, but Egon nodded out the window as he flicked his shirt closed and began buttoning up.

"A police man is making his way towards us," he explained apologetically. Egon squirmed a little in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, seeing as his trousers had inexplicably grown tight.

"Damn, it's true, when you want one they're never there, and when you don't...evening officer! Can we help you?" Peter wound down the window and peered up at the young uniformed policeman. The cold wind invaded the car's warmth, stirring the takeaway papers and cooling both its inhabitants' ardours.

"Oh my gosh! You're the Ghostbusters! I thought you were loitering, but I bet you've come to monitor the wharf for ghosts! Are there any seafaring manifestations plaguing New York, Doctor Venkman?"

The rain continued to pour down, the wind to howl, and their eager young friend managed to stay and hero worship them for the next half-hour. It was only Egon's professed concern that the officer might catch a cold that got him to agree to leave them for the warmth of his patrol car. With an awed salute he continued on with his patrol.

By then the car was cold and giant raindrops were landing with force on the roof and Peter decided he'd better get Egon back home where it was warm. Their other activities would have to wait, for while he did like the colour on Egon most of the time, blue was not a complimentary tone for his lips. Besides, he had a few ideas for heating things up again....