Pairing: Peter/Egon

Rating: PG or PG-13

Contact Info: bianki@hotmail.com

Summary: There are times when even Peter has to talk to somebody.

Notes: Despite the fact that I think that Peter’s mom died when he was 10, I can’t conceivably have him as living with his dad or by himself, so in my little corner of the world, Peter’s mom died when he was in college of some kinda cancer, I guess. Also, this might be sorta sad, and there is a death, but it’s not one of the guys.
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Hot Chocolate
(by Trent Grey)

/-/-/-/-/

"Mother?"

"Yes, dear?" Lauren Spengler turned to look at her five-year-old son, who regarding her with very serious deep blue eyes as he put his hands behind his back to resist the urge to tug on the skirt of her dress.

"Why are you making cocoa?"

"Because it relaxes me."

"It’s relaxing?" Egon’s little face squinched into a thoughtful frown. "How come?"

"There are times when just the act of preparing it can be just as healing as actually drinking it." Egon frowned a little, trying to figure it out before Lauren smiled down at him. "Don’t worry about understanding it now, Spookums. It may be a little while before you understand."

"But Father says that I should learn when I can."

"Well, your father isn’t always right, Egon. It may take a while for you to realize that, too."

"Yes, Mother." Egon nodded seriously. He started to turn away before he turned back to look at his mother. She looked a little sad. "Can I have a hug?"

"Of course you can, dear." Lauren stopped stirring and tapped the spoon against the side of the pan before setting it down. She knelt down quickly and lifted her son up as she gave him a big hug.

"Thank you, Mother." Egon’s little voice was muffled against the soft cloth of her dress.

"You’re very welcome, Spookums."

Egon pulled back a little to look at her seriously. "I love you, Mother."

"I love you, too." Lauren gave him a smile, which he returned slowly.

\-\-\-\-\

Egon sighed in his sleep with a little smile and held Peter a little tighter to him.

****

^-^-^-^-^

"Now, Peter, I know I promised, but I can’t."

"But, Dad…" Peter’s little face sank into an adorable little pout. "I wanna go with you."

Charlie Venkman shook his head. "I’m sorry, kiddo, but I can’t. I swear, next year you can come with me."

"Peter."

Peter turned to see his mother looking at him sadly. "Yeah, Mom?"

"It’s time to go to bed."

"But…" Peter glanced back at his father quickly.

"Say good night, Peter, and then get ready for bed. I’ll be up to tuck you in."

"But, Moooom!" Peter whined.

"Now, Peter." The gentle voice held a hint of steel.

Peter looked at his father pleadingly, but Charlie shook his head.

"Do what your mom says, Peter."

Peter’s shoulders sank. "Bye, Dad." He muttered as he trudged toward his room.

"Peter?" Charlie’s voice stopped the little boy in his tracks. "I love you."

Peter didn’t answer his father as he kept walking.

****

"Mom?" Peter opened the hospital door slowly, revealing an almost starkly white room with a single bed. The woman in the bed was almost a skeleton, the cancer eating her from the inside out. There was a standard, expensive-looking life support machine next to the bed, beeping loudly every other second or so as it kept track of the occupant’s heartbeat. Peter steeled himself and approached the bed slowly, making no sudden moves. "Mom?" he whispered.

Eyelids fluttered to reveal dimming green eyes. At first they looked confused, but when the image cleared and her son’s face came into focus, they shined, and she smiled a little.

"Peter." She rasped, her throat sore. "You’re…here."

"The hospital people called me." Peter found a stool nearby and pulled it up to her side. Sitting down, he gently took his mother’s hand in his, feeling the near-weightlessness of the bones. He could see his vision blur, but he blinked furiously at the coming tears and swallowed down the lump that had suddenly grown in his throat. "What’s up?" He tried a smile, but he didn’t think he was very successful.

"I’m…dying…"

<Please, Mom… Please, don’t say that.> Instead of voicing his thoughts, Peter nodded. She deserved to know that, yes, she was dying. He owed her that much, but he still didn’t like it.

"The doctors--" Peter’s mother suddenly started coughing loudly, sounding worse than a honking goose. Peter started up immediately, but was cut off by an gentle gesture to sit down. When she finally recovered, she spoke again. "The doctors…they want me to…live."

<Oh, no. Oh, God, no. Please, Mom… Please…>

"And you want to die." The words fell from numb lips in a statement.

His mother nodded. "Yes… I don’t… want to… hurt… anymore."

Peter nodded. "I’ll tell them to take you off life-sup--"

She shook her head weakly. "They won’t… Not if… there’s a chance… that I’ll live."

Peter was silent. <Mom…>

"There’s an… envelope there… on the table." She closed her eyes and took a few weak breaths before taxing her throat again. "Open it."

Peter couldn’t even remember opening the envelope, hearing only his mother’s labored breathing and the rustle of paper as he pulled the folded letter out and unfolded it. When he finished reading, he turned dim green eyes on his mother.

"Give it… to the doctors… after…"

Peter wanted to scream, wanted to reach over and shake her hard. Tell her she had a chance. Scream at her not to ask him to do this. But, one look at his mother’s eyes, dim from hopelessness and dazed from medication, he knew he couldn’t refuse. Venkmans were stubborn sons of bitches, that was for sure. It looked like his dad had rubbed some of that stubbornness off on his mother. <No… not stubbornness. Conviction. Determination.>

Everyone told him that his mother was very determined. She always did what was right. She couldn’t have done anything else if her life depended on it.

"Peter…" She reached for his hand, which the psych major gave to her. "I will… always… love you…"

"I love you, too, Mom."

She smiled at her son, and gave his hand one last squeeze. "I’m very… proud… of you. I want you… to take… care of… yourself."

Peter gave her a smirk. "Sure, Mom."

"Good-bye… Peter. I’ll… always… be with you."

Peter nodded curtly, releasing her hand and laying it on her chest gently. "Good-bye, Mom." He mentally shivered as he kissed the shriveled forehead. He advanced on her life support machine. "Rest in peace."

She closed her eyes.

Peter grabbed the plug near the outlet, and gave it a yank.

There was dead silence, and then the room erupted into chaos.

Doctors and nurses were rushing in mere seconds after the heartbeat monitor let out a long screech that shot lightning spikes of pain through Peter’s head. The sudden seeming flood of people were all shouting and talking, and once or twice, a question came out of nowhere to bombard the young man, but he shook his head and covered his ears to keep out the screech.

Then, everything went quiet.

v Peter eased one eye open to see the crowd still there, blocking his line of sight to his mother. Their mouths all opened and closed, but it was like someone had hit the mute button on the whole scene. The psych major sighed, thankful for some relief from the noise.

He felt a breeze ghost across his cheek, and he ripped his eyes from the doctors and nurses to see a transparent woman smile at him.

"Mom?"

She smiled a little, touching his cheek again, brushing away a tear that Peter hadn’t realized had slipped by unnoticed.

"Mom?" Peter frowned, not liking the long look she was giving him.

The transparent vision kissed him on the cheek and then backed away from him slowly, toward the window.

"…Mom?!" Peter yelled. "Mom, wait!! No, don’t leave!"

But she was already fading away with the summer sunlight that was filtering into the window.

"MOM!" Peter ran for the window. "No…"

She faded away entirely, giving her son one last smile before she vanished forever.

"Don’t…leave." Peter’s knees gave out from under him and he sank to the floor. "Mom…"

<Always be with me my *ass*.>

****

"Peter." Egon smiled at him, holding Peter in his arms, both of them swaying to soft music in the background.

"Egon." Peter snuggled into the blonde physicist’s chest, one arm wrapping around Egon’s neck as the other settled on the scientist’s chest, over his heart. "I love you."

"And I you, Peter." The deep bass rumbled soothingly. "And we’ll always be together."

Peter looked up at him with askance, his eyes narrowing. "Egon?"

Egon abruptly froze in his arms. "Peter…"

The deep blue eyes, so full of life and humor, rolled back into Egon’s head and the tall physicist slumped into Peter’s arms, becoming a dead weight in seconds. Peter desperately pressed fingers to Egon’s throat, trying to find his lover’s pulse.

He didn’t find one.

"Ha ha ha ha ha." An unearthly voice chuckled, causing Peter to rip shocked eyes away from Egon’s body and look toward the source of the voice.

"The human shouldn’t have made promises he couldn’t keep."

V-V-V-V-V

Peter’s eyes snapped open, and then he realized he was still in bed. <It was just a dream, Peter. Just a dream.> he assured himself.

Still, he got out of bed. <Maybe some cocoa…>

****

It was dark when Egon awoke, the light from the street lamps the only thing illuminating the room. Blindly, he reached out for Peter, but didn’t find the warm body next to him.

/Where is he?/

The physicist shivered as he got out from under the covers, finding out that the air had grown pretty close to freezing throughout the night. A quick search of the night-stand yielded his glasses, and after finding a robe and slippers, Egon left the room. It was unlikely that Peter was in the old bunkroom, since that had been converted into Ray and Winston’s room, and Egon seriously doubted the possibility that the psychologist would be in the lab, so that left the rec room. As he headed down the stairs, a soft humming coming from the kitchen grabbed the scientist’s attention.

"Hello?" Egon asked as he opened the door slowly, taking a look inside.

Peter stood at the stove, humming to himself with a sad smile on his face, slowly stirring something in a pot with small tendrils of steam rising from it. Like Egon, he was wearing a thick fluffy cotton robe that was too long in the sleeves and a little singed at the hem, but was wearing an olive tank top and a pair of black boxers underneath.

When he heard Egon’s voice, he turned to look at him. "Hey, Spengs." The small smile on his face with the sleepy look in his eyes made him look years younger.

"Peter, what are you doing?" Egon came in, closing the door behind him to walk up behind Peter and wrap his arms around the dark-haired man’s middle. "And why are you wearing my robe?"

"I could ask you that, but I like this robe better." Peter leaned back into Egon’s embrace and snuggled into the physicist’s chest as well as the robe.

Egon smiled, laying his cheek against Peter’s dark hair. "You still haven’t answered my first question."

"I’m making cocoa. What’s it look like I’m doing?".

"If you had wanted some cocoa, you could’ve asked me." Egon let go of Peter’s waist and slid his hands down Peter’s arms until he was gently guiding Peter’s hands as one held the pot handle and the other stirred the milk in the saucepan. "I would’ve been more than happy to make you some."

Peter shook his head. "Nah. I should learn to make this stuff myself."

Egon frowned. Peter never turned down an offer for hot chocolate. He gently pulled away from Peter’s hair to look down at him. "Is something wrong?"

Peter shook his head. "Not really. Why do you ask?"

"You don’t normally turn down some of my hot chocolate."

"Well, I shouldn’t take you for granted." Peter shrugged a little before turning a little to give Egon a puckish grin. "It’s time for me to spread my wings and leave the nest, Mom. I’m really sorry."

"Peter." Egon raised an eyebrow at him.

"I’ll be sure to write." Peter assured him magnanimously. "Maybe visit once in a while for some of that apple pie."

"Very humorous, Dr. Venkman."

"Glad you thought so, Dr. Spengler." Peter grinned again before snuggling into Egon and letting his eyes slide closed.

"Peter, is there something wrong?" Egon frowned, absently stirring the milk.

"Shhh…"

"Peter."

Peter sighed and opened his eyes to look up at Egon with a slight smile. "You’re ruining the moment here, Spengs."

"My apologies, but you aren’t normally this quiet."

Peter raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that a crime?"

"To be deprived of your voice?" Egon asked dryly. "I would’ve thought you’d consider it such."

Peter snorted. "I’m tired, so sue me."

"Peter, if something’s wrong…"

"’Don’t keep it inside’. I know, Spengs. I’m the one who’s normally giving that spiel to you or the guys, remember?" Peter smiled.

"What is it?" Egon asked gently, squeezing Peter’s hands briefly.

Peter was quiet for a long while, causing Egon to wonder if he should ask again. Just as he was about to speak up, Peter spoke first. "Have you ever felt alone?"

/So, that’s what this is about…/ "Alone?"

Peter nodded. "Alone. Like, when you were a kid…"

Egon thought for a long while before answering. "Yes, there was a time I felt alone."

"When?" Peter turned a little to look at Egon.

"In college before I met you."

"Really?"

Egon nodded. "I had acquaintances who shared my interests in science, but they weren’t really friends. They were my peers, but I didn’t feel as close to them as I felt when we knew each other better."

Peter smiled. "Yeah, I am a pretty likable guy, huh?"

"More than likable, Peter." Egon nuzzled his hair gently. "Do you feel alone?"

Peter smiled. "’Course not, Spengs. With you here, how can I be?"

"Then why did you ask?"

Peter shrugged, trying to change the subject. <The cocoa’s as good as anything.> "How long do you normally heat the milk before you add the chocolate?"

"It doesn’t matter, really." Egon considered getting the box of Quik from the cabinet, but decided against it. He could almost feel Peter’s need to be held. "I like to add it in while it’s heating, but I’ve added it afterwards."

"I’ll just add it afterwards then." Peter said.

"How come you’re awake?" Egon asked, trying to help Peter open up from another angle. "Couldn’t you sleep?"

"Nah." Peter shook his head. "Guess my insomnia’s acting up again."

"Peter, would you tell me what’s wrong? I’d like to help, if I can."

Peter sighed. "Yeah, I had trouble sleeping. It wasn’t exactly a dream, but a collection of memories. The first dream was when I was ten or so, and Dad breaking it to me that he couldn’t take me to wherever it was he was going that year." He smiled a little as Egon moved closer to him, pressing his chest against the psychologist’s back and sliding his hands up to Peter’s biceps and stroking them slowly.

"Then the second dream was when Mom died." Peter said softly. "I wasn’t exactly telling you and Ray the truth about what happened when she died."

Egon stopped stroking, turning to meet Peter’s eyes, which rose from the saucepan to look up into his. "What exactly happened?"

"Well, when I said that I took her off the life-support, I meant it. I literally pulled the plug."

Egon blinked in surprise. "Peter…"

"Lemme finish, Spengs." Peter shushed him with a finger to his lips, switching hands to keep stirring. "She wanted to die, Egon. I couldn’t keep her if she wanted to leave. And when I pulled the plug and all the doctors came in, trying to keep her from dying, I saw her leave."

"…Saw her?" Egon grabbed onto the last couple of words that registered like a life preserver.

Peter nodded. "It’s nuts, but I swear, I saw her ghost leave me."

"That’s not crazy, Peter." Egon shook his head as Peter turned to look at the saucepan. /…Why did he say, ‘leave’?/ "She left you?"

"Like Dad did."

Egon hesitated before asking, "Are you worried I’ll leave you as well?"

"I know you will. Or I’ll leave you."

The physicist looked puzzled. "Peter, I wouldn’t--"

"You would if a ghost threw you off a building. Hell, you almost died when you took a header off of the Empire State Building."

"As you can see, I am still alive."

"And how long is that gonna last, Egon?" Peter asked pointedly. "Everybody I care about leaves me."

Egon’s eyebrows lowered into a stern frown. He easily swept the saucepan off onto another burner, turning off the one they’d been using, and fished the Quik out of the cabinets. He leaned against the counter next to the stove, adding a few tablespoonfuls as he looked at Peter steadily.

"Peter, do you think that for a minute I would voluntarily leave you?" The blonde scientist asked, stirring the cocoa absently.

"’Voluntarily’ doesn’t matter."

"Yes, it does. As we both know, your father made his choice willingly to leave you and your mother to fend for yourselves. And from what you’ve just told me, you also feel that your mother abandoned you as well." Peter opened his mouth to say something, but only sighed in response.

"Peter, look at me." Egon stopped stirring, tapping the spoon against the pan before laying it on the counter. He laid one hand on Peter’s shoulder, using the other to lift his chin. "I want you to know something."

"I’m listening." Peter looked back at him.

"I cannot promise that I am never going to leave you, Peter; it is something that isn’t within my power to say. But I can promise that I will try my best to stay with you for as long as humanly possible."

"C’mere." Peter smiled, as he slipped his arms around Egon’s waist. Egon wrapped one arm around Peter’s neck and the other around his lover’s shoulders. Peter leaned in, tilting his face up a little and closed his eyes as he felt Egon’s mouth move against his. They shared a long, slow kiss before separating for air.

"Why don’t we move this party upstairs?" Peter flashed an impish smile at Egon, letting his hands slip a little to Egon’s rear.

"We really should drink the cocoa before it gets cold."

"Screw the cocoa. I want you."

Egon snorted. "You, Peter Venkman, will have to catch me first."

Peter grinned mischievously. "I love a good chase."

Egon smiled at him before giving him a teasing kiss. "I’ll take care of dispensing with the cocoa and meet you upstairs."

"Are you depriving me the thrill of the hunt, Spengs?" Peter asked, with a fake wounded look on his face. "That’s cruel."

"If you wish to take care of the cocoa, then I’ll be more than happy to let you--"

"I’ll see you upstairs, Spengler."

"I thought you would see it my way." Egon smiled faintly. Peter snorted before leaving the room.

/I guess Mother was right…/ Egon thought as he poured a little cocoa into a mug and took a drink or two before pouring the rest down the drain. /Preparing it can be just as healing as drinking it…/

END