Ghostbusting, as a job, had many odd and unexpected, though satisfying perks. Sure, you had to keep a virtual spectral jail in your basement, and there was a ghost that resembled a large ball of green snot that constantly left slime all over everything at home, not to mention you were on call 24-7, and you have made it a commitment for an indefinite amount of time to wear a 50-pound nuclear accelerator on your back as you, more often than not, climbed numerous flights of stairs in order to catch a Class Two. However, let it not be said that there weren’t perks to the job. The best thing about being a Ghostbuster, at least to Peter’s mind, was the number of very grateful, very wealthy clients.

After having saved a new high-rise from a spectral demolition team consisting of a Class Five, two Class Threes, and a Class Six, the owners were so pleased that they invited the four to the opening night of one of their buildings in Manhattan.

The interior was decadent, with everything polished to a soft shine, all of the carpets looking expensive and new as their dark designs wove underneath of tables and chairs. There was a large dance floor that looked almost like marble where people swirled around in swaths of blues and greens, a flash of a red or white rose accompanying the gentlemen and a splash of exotic color dotting the hair of more than a few of the ladies.

When they approached the desk, with Peter exchanging a few words with the waiter, the waiter nodded quickly and plucked out four red roses and gave them to each Ghostbuster. Pinning them onto their dinner jackets efficiently, the four were escorted further inside, toward the dance floor. He was also polite enough to vaguely point in the direction of a table full of hors d’oeurves.

Peter had gone to ostensibly get Egon and himself some punch, but was in truth looking for Mr. Redenbach, the gentleman who had been in charge of paying them. As it appeared after Ray and Winston had disappeared into the dazzling mix of people, Peter hadn’t gotten the whole check as the business was still starting out, but he meant to take care of that right away.

Egon had managed to keep himself occupied with some light conversation, and was now so engaged with a Miss Elise Worthington, a petite brunette with a predatory gleam in her eyes that reminded the blonde scientist of a cat that had found its prey and was about to pounce.

"You wouldn’t care to dance, would you?" Elise almost purred.

Egon blinked in surprise at the abrupt topic change. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, you aren’t here with a date, are you?" The young woman was about to almost drag Egon out onto the dance floor where couples were dancing to a slow piece.

"As a matter of fact--" Egon tried ineffectually before a new voice cut in.

"He’s with me."

Egon turned to see Peter, wearing a sharp, black tuxedo. The bow tie he wore was a dark green, almost the same color as his eyes. It certainly brought out a cheerful glow from them as they were invariably were fixed on Miss Worthington, appraising her as they traveled over her face.

"Excuse me?" She asked, more than a bit surprised at the interruption.

"I think you heard me." Peter’s left arm landed easily across Egon’s shoulders, flashing her a winning, if icy, smile. He turned to the scientist, his smile losing its hostility. "Hey, Spengs, wanna try a trip around the floor."

"Considering the dancing techniques I have witnessed you utilize while we were still in college, I hesitate to put myself in the path of danger."

"My dancing’s not *that* bad."

"You are correct, Peter." Egon smiled as he delivered the dry remark. "It is most assuredly worse."

"Ha, ha, Spengler. Very funny." Peter shifted, dropping his arm from Egon’s shoulders to grab his wrist. "C’mon, Don Juan, the song’s not gonna last forever." With that, Egon was led out onto the dance floor, leaving a very confused and surprised Elise Worthington in their way. As Peter stopped and released his hold on Egon to face the physicist, one of Egon’s eyebrows rose inquiringly.

"And why, might I ask, did we so rudely abandon Miss Worthington? It was not as if she were about to manhandle me."

Peter snorted. "Of course you wouldn’t notice the fact that she nearly got her claws into you, Dr. Spengler." The psychologist took Egon’s hand in his right and placed his left on Egon’s slender waist. "Women like that have just one thing on their mind. ‘How long will it take me to get him somewhere private long enough to have hot, passionate sex with him?’"

A light splash of red spread across Egon’s cheeks as he looked at Peter with surprise and a bit of alarm. "She--I’m certain that she--What I mean to say is…"

"She was putting the moves on you." Peter told him pointedly, guessing the taller man’s thoughts. He gave his blonde dancing partner a sharp look. "Nobody, and I mean *nobody*, makes moves on *my* man but me." With that said, they moved fluidly at the next down stroke of the conductor’s wand.

They passed some bars of music in silence, instinctively responding and moving to the other’s physical signals and body language. After one particular spin that ended up with Peter encased in the crook of Egon’s right arm, the blonde scientist lowered his head a little to whisper into the other’s ear.

"You do realize that by as early as tomorrow morning, we will most probably be front-page material for every yellow journalist in New York City."

Peter slipped out of Egon’s hold with a deft spin, still holding on to Egon’s hand. "You’re forgetting that we already outed ourselves months ago."

"You will have to admit that the confrontation between ourselves and a god that was at least twice as powerful as Gozer had been was much more likely to allow our public declaration to fall to the wayside in favor of much more interesting reading material."

"What can I say?" Peter shrugged with a winning smile as Egon spun him in a tight circle. The psychologist took advantage of the position he ended up in to sneak an arm around Egon’s waist and dip him low. "We’ve got great timing."

Peter spun the scientist to his feet again as Egon responded, "I daresay if I had managed to calculate Chernobog’s coming to the day, you would have scheduled a press conference for the day before."

"And what’s wrong with that?" Peter asked innocently, looking woefully fake as he pulled a hurt expression. "Certainly keeps the press on their toes."

"The fact that we are being scrupulously watched springs to mind the fact that inadvertently ‘outing’ ourselves was completely ignored."

"They’re just jealous ‘cuz you snagged the best dance partner for the evening."

Egon snorted as Peter led him around for a turn. "That hardly seems to be the case, Peter. I do not believe that even if our relationship was overlooked by our encounter with the Slavic god of Hell, it will remain as such when there is no Class 9 threatening the safety of New York City as a whole."

"Yeah, yeah." Peter grudgingly admitted. "But still, you gotta like the fact that people are getting out of the way for us."

"They could very well be moving as your dance technique is atrocious, and that you are liable to careen into one of them if they move into your path of destruction."

"Sure, Twinkle-toes. Whatever you say." Peter didn’t believe it for a minute when he saw the warm glow in the royal blue eyes locked on his. "That tie really brings out your eyes."

"If you think that we can possibly ignore this situation--"

Peter wasn’t about to let him finish. He gracefully swung him around and pulled the physicist close to him before delivering a deep liplock.

When the need for air won out, Peter released him and leaned in to whisper in Egon’s ear. "And you, my good Doctor Spengler, seem to be forgetting that these guys couldn’t care less."

Egon pulled back to give Peter a puzzled look.

"Just about everybody on the Board of Directors here is still in the closet."

Egon managed an easy glance around the dance floor to look at the persons in question as Peter led him for a spin. "Then the roses they were offering at the door…?"

"Uh huh." Peter grinned. "The red ones are for straight guys."

"Oh, dear."

"I didn’t realize it until little Miss Vampire there had locked her sights on you."

"I wasn’t aware that you had noticed." Egon replied. "I had gathered from the way you were speaking to the ladies at the refreshment table that you had lost your way."

Peter snorted. "I can wrap any woman around my little finger." Peter turned him around absently while Egon gave him a penetrating look.

"There is the question of why you would do so." Egon brought Peter up a bit short, saving what could’ve been a bad fall into a tight hold. "If I may say so, I will most definitely make certain that no other person ‘puts the moves on you’, as it were, except for myself. Are we agreed?"

"Yeah, Spengs." Peter grinned. The song quietly ended, and a tango started up. Without having to say anything, the two switched dancing postures and strode confidently across the floor.

THE END