By Fire Frog

"Now these are the things to do if you want abbs of steel." Winston said, demonstrating the hanging crunch for his interested looking friend.

"And after those some of these, to tone the side muscles." Peter leant to the side, an x of bar bells held in each hand.

"And you've gotta eat right, and sit with a good posture." Winston lectured.

"In the car, practice tightening your stomach muscles and releasing them fifty times then relax for a few minutes, and do it again." Peter continued.

Ray nodded eagerly. He was willing to do anything to shape up for the coming 'beach' calender they had signed up for. Even if it meant lifting weights with Peter and Winston.

Just then there was a commotion from over by the roof stairway and Egon staggered into view, a huge gismo held in his arms. With infinite care he lowered the thing to the floor, then wiped his brow and blew a breath of exhaustion.

Egon's fair skin was flushed with the strain of carrying his contraption, plus it must have been pretty hot up there on the roof, he had his shirt off, dangling from the pocket of his pants where he'd tucked it for safe keeping. He was wearing fingerless leather gloves to protect his hands from the hot metal of his invention, the sweat liming his long, lean body a testament to the scorching temperatures outside.

"Oh, hello fellows." Egon murmured distractedly, noticing the little group by the gym equipment. He lent one hip on his mystery machine and ran a glove-clad hand back through his sweaty hair. The muscles of his abdomen bunched with the movement, standing out in sharp relief.

"Mm, I think I'll get a drink once I've put the Atmospheric Ecto Analyser away. It appears to have taken several interesting readings." With a smooth movement Egon turned, picked up the huge 'analyser' and continued on to the lab.

"Freak." Said Winston, levelly.

"Mutant." Peter agreed. "Definitely not natural."

Ray thought hard. It was true, Egon never worked out on the weight machines. And he ate a lot of high sugar content food. All he ever did all day was run around catching ghosts with the team and shifting big pieces of lab equipment. Well, he did jog, but that didn't count as Ray knew part of Egon's jogging track took him directly to the doughnut shop two streets over.

Peter and Winston were still glaring in the direction Egon had gone, both men pulling their own stomachs in so tight they quivered with the tension.

Ray looked at them, looked over at the lab.

Looked at them, looked over at the lab.

"Hey, Egon! Wait up!" he called and headed after his tallest friend. His built tallest friend.

"That's typical." Winston frowned in annoyance as he watched their budding young gym mate run off.

"Be glad he hasn't seen Egon in a set of speedos yet." Peter told him, grabbing a thighmaster and squeezing for all he was worth.

"Don't go there, man. I don't want to listen to you go on about getting that operation done for the next fortnight again." Winston hefted a barbell and began pumping in earnest.

"Come on, be truthful. We do this beach thing, you think they're gonna find a conch shell big enough to hide that thing?" Peter shook his head at his own question. Of course they wouldn't. Zed just grunted in reply.

The guys stopped and moved to different apparatus. Soon all that could be heard was the sound of weights clanking. And in their minds eye both Ghostbusters relived the moment when Egon reached up to push back his hair and each of them continued their vigorous exercise whilst thinking up some more exotic reasons for Egon to be making that movement. Winston's involved ice cubes and press ups. Peter's starred body oil and going down.

There was a lot of expendable energy to burn during the summer months, when Egon took off his shirt. After a little while they made room on the treadmill for Janine. She'd just gone to drop off some papers in the lab and, well, now she jogged. Nobody spoke. Nobody had to. 'Clink clank' went the exercise equipment.

'Clink clank.'