The Date.

By Fire Frog.

"I am not wearing a fishnet singlet. I don't even own a fishnet singlet, Peter!" Egon Spengler snapped at his best friend.

"Well what sort of a fairy are ya?" Venkman chided him, pulling out yet another pink shirt from the cupboard in hopes of finding some gold lamé or chintz hidden away at the back.

"I'm the sort that is losing patients very rapidly." Egon told him, as he grit his teeth in silent frustration. He knew this would eventuate, he should never have researched his plans through Ray's Internet connection.

Here he was, a grown man in his late thirties, taking his first visit to an actual gay bar and his friends were panicking about it worse than the time he'd wanted to drill a hole through his forehead. He had every belief that that long ago experiment would have worked perfectly, as would this one if his companions would only allowed him a chance to try it out.

Their over reaction was typical of the interference any social move he tried to make garnered, his attempt to woo Louella, a beautiful Hollywood actress, a case in point. So, all right, she had dumped him when she learnt that he was not a famous stunt man, but still. He wanted the right to make his own mistakes.

There was no chance of that happening now. He had had an entire afternoon of listening to the guys tell him horror stories about people meeting in bars and his friends seemed genuinely worried that he would attract the wrong kind of admirer.

Indeed, they were fretting over tonight's excursion more than he was and he had not thought that possible. Unable to stand their nerves any longer he'd hidden away in his laboratory, then eventually tried to sneak out. But Ray had set Slimer to watch for him and the traitorous little ghost had eagerly informed on him.

Caught at the doorway he'd stood there being regarded by five sets of eyes and squirmed in embarrassment. He'd felt like a pubescent caught sneaking out to a clandestine romantic interlude. The tense silence had been broken, surprise surprise, by Peter.

"You are not wearing that." Venkman had told him and grabbing his arm towed him back to the bunkroom before he could properly formulate a protest.

Resentfully Egon had glanced down at his attire, he couldn't see what was wrong with his current outfit. It was his best tuxedo after all, the white one with the blue accents that matched his eyes (both his mother and the family tailor had told him it was very fetching.)

He had heard Winston whisper to Ray that he looked like a virginal offering to the god of gay men and the younger man had nodded agreement. Which was ridiculous, for despite what the others thought, he was no virgin and he doubted that anyone would gain such an impression simply from his wearing the colour white.

Janine, who had stayed behind especially to sneer as she saw him off, had been staring at him with the strangest expression on her face. He was glad she had not shared her thoughts on the matter, he doubted his ego could stand one more assault from the righteous wrath that was a Melnitz scorned. All in all he thoroughly regretted being so incautious with his plans. They had seemed so innocuous when he had first made them.

The first step on his road to disaster had occurred at a conference in Japan. Only he had attended the event, Ray and Winston being busy with something called 'TrekCon'. A very happy Venkman had been partying at the presidential offices in return for some counselling for the ghost of a departed pet cat.

The subject under discussion at the conference was how much the natural lava flow of earth might have been influenced by the recent appearance of 'mood slime', ectoplasm that could be effected by the emotions of the locals in the area. Egon had begun talking with one of the local scientist, a handsome man named Gojirou Hyobanshi who had peppered the conversation with a certain amount of professional flattery and several rather sweet pick up lines.

This kind of thing had happened before, he was not immune to the effect that fame had upon others. But for some reason Egon had decided to allow Dr Hyobanshi, on the fourth day when most of the conference talk was over with, to sweep him off his feet. They had spent several very pleasurable hours thereafter in the hotel room where he was staying. What happened in those hours had certainly surprised him. Enough so that he found himself wanting to reproduce the experience, which at the time Dr Hyobanshi was only too happy to help him with.

On the flight back to New York Egon had done some thinking and decided that it was certainly possible that he was gay. For the kind of feelings he had experienced in that hotel room, he was assuredly willing to give it a try. Perhaps this was why his attempts to form lasting relationships with women had never worked. Flushed with residual endorphin's he had determined to try for another homosexual encounter at the first opportunity.

His next set of actions had been less than well considered. They had led more directly to his downfall, although he had not thought twice about any of them at the time.

First, he had accessed the Internet via Ray's computer that lived in the rec. room and was primarily used for gamming and net surfing. From it he gained information on how gay men actually met. To his delight it appeared to be quite easy and there were several dozen recourse's open to him. Excited by his discovery he had not been as diligent in covering his tracks as he might have been. Ray had, naturally enough, found evidence of his web browsing and become curious.

Next, Egon had determined to visit a local nightspot named as a meeting place for gay men, a bar of some kind. He had cautiously asked Winston, the teams navigator, if he knew the directions to getting there, being purposely vague as to why he wished to do so. Zed had happily supplied directions and Egon concluded that he would need to call a cab.

He had planned to first go to the bar simply to see what went on. Only then, if he felt comfortable, would he proceed. His anxiety level heightened as the day he had chosen drew near and psychologist that he was, Peter had picked up on it. Egon had proven elusive on the subject, arousing Peter's suspicions even more. It had not taken long for both Ray and Peter to share their concerns with Winston, who put two and two together and came up with danger.

They had cornered him at breakfast, a most unkind thing to do. He needed his sugar impregnated cereal first thing in the morning just as much as Peter needed coffee. Out numbered and sucrose depleted he had crumpled under their questioning and confessed that yes, he suspected he was gay, and yes, he planned to do something about it.

The stunned looks on their faces had been almost comical. The look on Janine's face as she entered the room bearing a tray of donuts was not. Their secretary had been furious at him. Egon had wished heartily for the attack of a class seven to whisk him out of there, but instead he got to listen to Janine deride his manhood, his parentage and his scientific ability. He was certain she hadn't meant that about his scientific prowess, she had witnessed him performing several experiments that were, in his own estimation, works of pure genius. Well, there had been the debacle with the power packs and the giant spotlights, but surely she wouldn't hold that against him...

Egon had badly needed to hear those words of comfort. Janine's anger and the strange mask like looks of his friends were severely unnerving him. Hearing Winston claiming that everything would be all right had been a much-needed balm.

The thing that had comforted Egon the most, however, was that Winston had placed a friendly arm around his shoulders as he talked. Egon hadn't realised how much he had been risking until Janine had started her angry outburst. But as soon as she did things he had only been aware of on the periphery had slammed into his conscience - hard. The word homophobia kept circling around his head. He was suddenly aware that the word gay brought consequences that he had not even vaguely considered.

Peter always did say he was too oblivious for his own good, but this was ridiculous! Of course the fear such a revelation rendered could be applied to his life. With a few simple words he had placed a barrier between himself and his friends. Would they worry that he was observing them in the changing area in front of the lockers? In the shared bath or bedroom? Would they back away from physical contact during or after busts?

This was intolerable! The Ghostbusters worked because they were a team. Without trust, how could they function?

But the weight of Winston's comforting arm eased his fear somewhat. And it soon became apparent that the others were at least trying to support him with his decision, if endless recounting of the terrible fate of men who picked up other men in bars could be counted as caring, which he thought it could. Yes, the team was trying to handle this, in their own way. Well, except for Janine. She had retreated into a stony silence. It made him nervous, but he had faced worse.

Now, if only he could get through this initial expedition to the bar so that he could experience some more 'gay life', perhaps this trial would prove worth it.

Peter had decided on a pink shirt with the top buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up, no tie, a pair of jeans a grateful customer had given each of them a set of (which Egon had never worn before) and definitely no suspenders. Egon felt highly under dressed, but Peter assured him he looked hot.

"I do not wish to appear hot." Egon had frowned at him. "I wish to look presentable."

"Ya look that, too." Peter confided, tugging at Egon's rolled shirtsleeves to get them even.

Now properly attired Egon was escorted to the front door, where Winston had arranged to call him a cab.

"You're a cab," he'd joked. Ray had cuffed him on the head, bad jokes were meant to be his domain.

"Here's the mobile, use it to call us if you need a lift home, or if any thing happens." Ray told him seriously, holding out the black oblong as if passing over a can of mace. Winston had actually suggested giving the scientist a spray pack, but Peter had intervened before the offer could be made. Egon could only be pushed so far and indicating that they thought he was incapable of defending himself was courting trouble.

"Don't go with anyone to their house, insist on a hotel." Janine suddenly piped up. Her eyes looked just as worried as everyone else's did and Egon realised she was just as concerned as they were. He began to wonder if he was doing the right thing. Janine straitened his collar and continued giving him suggestions. "If they want to meet you tomorrow, make it a lunch date. And choose a public restaurant. Don't get in their car, hire a cab and meet them there."

"Talking of which, don't spend your cab fare. Keep it in a separate pocket so you don't accidentally spend it." Winston advised, his fingers still itching to hand over that mace. "Keep out of isolated corners and never leave your drink unattended."

"Wait a sec." Peter snapped his fingers and dashed over to the coat stand by Janine's desk. He came back with Egon's somewhat battered looking 'professor' coat, the one with the patches on the elbows, and his own sports jacket. "Come on Spengler, the night is young and we've got some handsome guy to catch for your evenings entertainment." He grabbed Egon and headed for the door.

"Peter, what..." but Egon was unable to finish the sentence as Ray, Winston and Janine were all babbling that Venkman had had a great idea and wishing them both a good night. Their relief that Egon would not be venturing out alone was embarrassing.

/What do they mean by both have a good time? With Venkman along I shall be lucky to get even a cursory look over by the local gigolo's./ Egon narrowed his eyes, annoyance radiating from his angular form, but Peter pushed him out and into the taxi and then it was too late to protest. Apparently Peter Venkman was to be his chaperone for the night. /How wonderful,/ Egon thought testily.

Having invited himself along, Peter then had the audacity to change their destination. Saying he had heard of a higher-classed establishment he told the taxi driver the new address. Peter assured his friend that they were far more likely to net a professor or gentleman of similarly appropriate profession at his chosen location. Trust him, he said, had he ever let Egon down?

Egon counted to ten, in Hungarian, German and Zulu. Losing your temper at Peter was as effective as throwing stones to turn back the tide, he reminded himself. He took a deep, soothing breath. Then he turned and let Peter have it with both barrels. Effective? No, but he enjoyed doing it anyway.

There was one good thing about the insuring argument with Peter, Egon didn't have time to become nervous until they actually arrived at their destination. Once there, however, a terrible fluttering sensation had begun in his stomach and his mouth had dried out, making swallowing difficult.

"Deep breath, Spengs, it'll be alright." Peter's calming voice in his ear oddly relaxed him, the feel of one of his hands rubbing circles on his back grounding him with the reminder that he was not alone. This thought comforted him almost as much as it irked him.

"Look, you wont even know I'm here tonight, okay?" Peter insisted. "I'll go stand by the bar, you go sit at a table. If you think you're being hit on by the wrong type I'll come rescue ya. Okay?"

Egon nodded hesitantly. Peter gripped his elbow in a display of encouragement then he walked beside his friend into unknown territory.

"Terrible." Egon snapped. "Dr Venkman here kept coming over and saying derogatory things to anyone who stopped to converse with me."

"They deserved it." Peter replied calmly. "That first guy was married, or I'm a dancing hippo. The second was only interested in a quick fling, the third..."

"Has it occurred to you Peter that I might like to start out by trying a quick fling?" Egon rounded on him. "This is a new state for me, I might want to see if I like it some more before settling down with..."

"...a no good gold digger who was after your patents more than your package..." Peter ignored him and kept talking.

"...you have no right to dictate to me who I can and can not see!..." Egon snapped, his words running over Venkmans as Peter's ran over his.

"Looks like an interesting night." Winston commented to his two companions.

"Sure does." Janine stood up and stretched. "Now that we know they both got back safe I think I'll go home now." She bent down to retrieve her shoes and slipped them on.

"I'll drive you home." Winston offered, jumping up to escort her out.

"Okay," she smiled, then yawned. It had been a long night. Winston pulled out his keys and winked at Ray then hurried down to open the door for their lovely secretary. Ray smiled, then turned to watch as Peter and Egon continued their argument. It was always fun to listen to those two fight.

"...and then there was the guy in the sports jacket, a renegade from the shallow end of the gene pool if ever I saw one! If you'd had kids they would have been two headed!" Peter was yelling.

"He was a Merchant Banker." Egon replied coldly.

"I rest my case!" Peter crossed his arms in defiance.

"You insufferable, officious senex senis mater matris pullus!" Egon spat at him, blue eyes narrowing dangerously.

Ray groped around on the lounge until he located the popcorn. Wow, this had already degenerated into Latin. A Latin argument was always good value. He ate his popcorn and watched the drama unfold with wide eyes.

The next day Egon observed Peter having private consultations with Ray, Winston and Janine. Nobody tried to talk to him, which annoyed the physicist greatly. Miffed, he refused to acknowledge that the thought of them excluding him hurt. He did not need the approval of the others. All he needed was science and a ready source of sugar and he would be just fine.

There were, thankfully, no ghost busting calls that day. It would have been somewhat uncomfortable for them all to work together, what with the others keeping secrets from him. Instead Egon locked himself into his laboratory and the internal debate was still raging as to whether he should ever again venture out.

Peter's behaviour last night left little doubt in Egon's mind that he, and from their silence, the rest of the team as well, did not after all approve of his decision to explore his sexuality. This disappointed him, however he was not going to bow to their opinions in this matter.

He had stood up to his own Father on how he ran his life, had continued his experiments with Ray on spirit entrapment when the rest of the scientific community had laughed at their theories, been willing to test trephination though it had been medically outlawed. And he had taken to wearing pink shirts despite Peter's adamant request that he not do so. He was not inexperienced with going across the mainstream to pursue his desires.

If he wanted to date men, he would. The ones he had briefly met last night had seemed quite interesting, even the Merchant Banker (in a strangely Neolithic way). Neglected by his friends he determined to go back again tonight, on his own, and see if he couldn't meet some one else.

Later that night, after he had resolutely held out against the aroma of Italian pan fried eggplant, Egon could be found still in the lab. He had spent his dinnertime with a four pack of Twinkies and a diet coke on the roof before creeping down here to plan the rest of his evening. After sneaking his clothes from the bunkroom he got ready for his outing at the labs corner wash basin.

Splashing on a little cologne after shaving (he had noticed the other gentlemen had seemed fond of it), he styled his hair and adjusted the uncomfortable jeans, hitching them back up onto his hips. He was attired the same as he had been yesterday, deciding to take Peter's advice despite their current disagreement. Looking about and failing to find his coat he decided to go without it.

Slipping his wallet into his back pocket he crept down the stairs, heading towards the door.

"Egon." Ray's quiet call nearly sent the taller man into orbit. "Oops, sorry, didn't mean to scare ya." Ray apologised. "I, um, thought you might want your coat." He held up the worn jacket so Egon could see it.

"Thank you," Egon said, taking it and holding it before him awkwardly. He found himself at a sudden loss for words. "I, ah, I was just..." he indicated the door, wanting to pretend suddenly that he was simply going for a walk, but aware that his dress and the splash of cologne he wore probably gave his true intentions away.

"I know." Ray told him softly. "I just want you to know that, we want you to be happy, Egon. Whatever that takes. But, be careful. And, ah, if you want to stay out tonight, call and let us know." Ray looked at him with solemn eyes.

"I hardly think that will happen, Raymond. But if it should, I will call you. I promise." Egon touched his friend's shoulder in reassurance, then put his coat on, smiling a little at the weight of the mobile phone in one pocket.

Someone sat down at the table opposite him. He caught a glimpse of an expensively tailored sports jacket and gave an internal groan. /Not the Merchant Banker!/ before looking up into the green eyes of Peter Venkman.

"Hey, Spengs." Peter said softly. Egon gaped at him and Peter smiled at his stunned look. He quickly began talking again, before surprise turned to outraged annoyance. "Guess you're wondering why I'm here. Uh, well, it's not for the drinks." He indicated the mint julep with its strange garnish. Egon looked at his drink, then looked back at Peter. The other man cleared his throat and pressed on.

"I want to ask you on a date. Tonight. Here." Peter kept his eyes level on his companion, looking earnest and scared at the same time.

"What are you talking about?" Egon demanded, his own uncertainty making his question blunt.

"I like you Egon. I want to be your date."

"Ah, and when did this happen?" Spengler gave him a sceptical look and Peter shrugged apologetically.

"It sorta began while I was playing chaperone the other night. You looked so cute and all those guys kept coming up to hassle - okay, okay - talk to you. It made me do some thinking, threw a couple of switches that had got stuck in ruts-ville. Bottom line, I realised that there wasn't another guy in the room I wanted you to go home with. Except me."

Peter looked up into Egon's eyes. He dropped the coaster he had nervously ripped into little pieces and moved his hand next to that of his friend so that the sides of their fingers touched. His heart was in his eyes, trying to say all the things he wanted to say but didn't have the words for.

To his immense relief Egon sighed and moved his hand so that it rested over his. "So, ah," he continued, hope blooming in his chest "come here often?" he tried, reaching over to steal Egon's onion and biting it in half. His hopes for looking sexy and sophisticated came crashing down when he breathed in wrong and a piece of onion hit the back of his throat, causing him to choke.

After banging him on the back and making sure that Peter was going to be okay, Egon lent his chin on one fist and laughed. He rarely had to offer the Heimlich manoeuvre on the first date, he wondered what else they would get up to before the night was over!

Another cocktail and a cab ride later they found themselves travelling in an elevator towards a hotel room Peter had thought to book in advance. Peter slipped a hand into the pocket of Egon's jacket and pulled out the mobile phone.

"Ray? Yeah, it's me. Ah, the eagle has landed, pal. Yeah, I couldn't be happier. See ya tomorrow, around mid day. Thanks, we will. Bye." He hung up and replaced the mobile where he'd found it.

"You discussed this, us, with them?" Egon asked him, curious.

"Yeah, needed a second opinion, then a third and a fourth. Wanted to know if I was making the right decision. I mean, that would have been all you needed, you come out and your best friend immediately hits on you. The guys said you wouldn't be spooked, no pun intended, and Janine actually acted kind of relieved. You worried her the other night, I think. She kinda felt she may have pushed you into doing something you shouldn't. I told her you never did anything you didn't really want to do."

"No, I rarely do anything that I do not wish to do." Egon confirmed.

The elevator stopped with a reserved ding and they both got out. Peter led the way and opened the door to the hotel room, looking pleased when Egon arched an eyebrow in approval. From the expensive decor Spengler concluded that Venkman had booked the best suite the hotel had to offer.

He walked over to the large window and looked down at the lights of the city. New York looked magical at night, from a distance. But then, so did most places.

"I am glad you came tonight, Peter. I know it must have been a hard thing to do. Despite the others saying that they felt I would not be affronted, you still could not know if I would accept your offer." Egon slipped off his jacket while he spoke, placing it on a coat rack near the entrance.

From the doorway Peter could see Egons reflection in the window, with the lights from the city mirrored in his glasses, making it look as if a miniature star system had taken up residence in his eyes. Peter swallowed nervously. Egon did hold his universe, always had.

"Hmm. Even after all these years of knowing you, 'gon, you're still a mystery to me. I had to come and find out what you would say myself." Peter shut and locked the door, then took off his jacket, placing it with Egon's. He lent against the coats a little, as if gathering his strength, then straitened and turned to face his best friend.

"Do you like the room?" he asked nervously, moving further in until he stood at Egon's shoulder. They surveyed the cream and tan refinement of their surroundings, Peter's eyes looking everywhere but at the man besides him. "It's also got a Jacuzzi and a wine bar, everything a body needs to relax. We can sit and talk for as long as you want, about what ever you want to discuss. You can decide..." he took a deep breath and slanted his eyes sideways to judge Egon's reaction, "you can decide if you're interested in accepting my offer. Be my...date."

Peter's voice faded as Egon turned towards him, reaching languidly to touch his face with long, gentle fingers. They stood looking at each other for what felt like hours, then Egon slowly lent in until their lips were bare millimetres apart. "I do accept." He whispered.

And with those words they kissed.