Archive of Our Own

Artwork by Lethe. Thank you, Lethe!

***********It's Always the Quiet Ones***********

Janine was looking very festive. A delicate ivory lace blouse untucked over a Christmassy red velvet mini-skirt. Her hosiery had little sparklies around the ankles and she had splurged on new and expensive shoes. Crystal snowman earrings and a large holly-with-red-berries pin affixed to her shoulder completed her ensemble.

As much as he hated Christmas, her boss and pal, Peter, was going to puke. She practically rubbed her hands together in anticipation. Nothing like a full day of mutual insults, personal attacks and put-downs to keep a friendship alive.

A low creak drew her attention to the stairs. Ray was creeping down them backwards, his eyes scanning the ceiling. Janine became vaguely alarmed. This was not his happy 'My Friends Are Stalking Me With Squirt-Pistols' sneak, nor was it his patented, ultra-quiet 'Something Is Loose In The Firehouse And It's Trying To Kill Us All' tippy-toe, but an unsettling combo of the two. He looked disgusted.

Janine discreetly wiggled her fingers at him, catching his attention. With silent but rushed steps he crossed the distance between them and without the least preamble, ripped the front of her shirt clean off.

Janine held still for it, absolutely too shocked to move. Staring him in the face she was only vaguely aware of the sound of petite ivory buttons hitting the floor.

Ray choked. A deep-red blush slapped across his face so quickly he almost lost consciousness. He whispered, "I only meant to grab the pin!"

"What?" Her voice was low, slow and deadly.

"The pin!" He held up his fabric swatch with Janine's holly pin dangling, still attached, to the end of it. "Slimer's confused," Ray breathed. "He thinks holly is mistletoe. Y'know, like some kids do. He's got our holly wreath and he just gave Winston the most gross, slimy kiss up on the roof."

He unclasped the pin and put it in his pocket. Then, badly rattled, covered her cleavage with the torn remnants of her shirt and patted them into place, as if guilt and good intentions would magically sew everything together again.

"Rayyy..."

"I'm sorry, damn, I'm so sorry! This stuff is fragile! Is it antique? I'm so sorry."

"Ray...get...your...hands...OFF...my...tits!"

A choked whine issued from Peter's office and there appeared the wonder that was Peter Venkman completely doubled over. Ray dropped his hands. Peter managed to drag in a trembling breath and veritably exploded with laughter.

"Ooh! THERE'S something you don't hear every day!" He collapsed onto the wooden floor. He slapped it. He writhed, he WALLERED in their discomfiture. "BWAHAAAA!"

Ray and Janine stared at him with horror and disgust. Their own embarrassment temporarily forgotten as they contemplated Peter holding their tender moment over their heads for the rest of their lives. They'd never hear the end of it. Never.

Suddenly, a glowing green glob of slime came wailing down through the ceiling. Slimer was upset. He stopped to drift in front of Ray and pouted. "RAAAAAYYYY!! Eeegonnnnn took my mithiltow!"

Glaring at Peter, Ray reached into his pocket. The holly pin glittered green as he held it up for Slimer to see. "Here's some more, buddy." He flipped it through the air and it landed beside Peter's head. He abruptly stopped laughing and began to scuttle away. He looked like a panicked crab.

Janine grinned. "Give him a big Christmas smooch for me, Slimer!"

"OBOY!! MITHILTOW!! Merry Chrithmath!! Merry Chrithmath, Peterrrrr!!" Slimer scooped up the holly and held it over Peter who had backed into the file cabinets.

"NO! Slimer, NO! Get away!!" Peter fell into the classic 'Duck and Cover' position.

With a loving MWAH! MWAH! MWAH! Slimer gave Peter his best cold, slimy ectoplasmic Season's Greetings.

Janine turned to Ray. He flinched back - then noticed she was smiling.

"Merry Chrithmath, Ray."

Relieved, he grinned back. "Merry Chrithmath, Janine."

"Let's never speak of this again."

"Okay."

. ***********The Convergence*********** .

Leaving Peter Venkman's tormented screams behind them, Janine fled upstairs and Ray bolted downstairs to his basement lab.

For the first time since he'd moved into the firehouse Ray locked the door. As if that would actually keep out a ghost with too much Christmas spirit or the Wrath of Venkman or even his own mortal embarrassment. Leaning against the door he covered his face with his hands. What to do now, laugh or scream? Hmmm...he started to laugh. Oh, god. He'd ripped Janine's shirt! Oh, god. A terrible case of underestimating the strength of a holly pin and overestimating the strength of an antique lace blouse. Well, he didn't MEAN to! He had to yank the pin or Slimer would've just RUINED her clothes...oh, GOD!

He scrubbed his burning face and laughed some more.

He could smell Janine's perfume on his hands.

He stopped laughing.

 

*Meanwhile, Up In The Third Floor Bunkroom*

 

Scanning her surroundings for any sign of her employers or Slimer the Friendly Christmas Menace with his 'mitheltoe' Janine crept into the bunkroom. Her lacy blouse was beyond repair and she let it fall to the floor. One of these guys had to have a shirt she could borrow. She felt like a rather vulnerable trespasser sneaking around but, really, she always got a charge out of venturing into the sanctum sanctorum where the guys slept. All was quiet. Oh, look, Winston had a goldfish on his bedside table. Peter's domineering four-poster was a mess, as usual, Ray, she fought back a blush, had a new, sunny patchwork quilt on his bed and Egon...ah...Egon's bed...Janine repressed a sudden urge to roll on it in her bare skin, mussing those military corners beyond all redemption.

Bare skin...Uh oh, where was a shirt? She began to search in various armoires, trunks, and shelves. Where was a shirt?! Was it laundry day?

 

*Meanwhile, In The Third Floor Bathroom*

 

It WAS laundry day and there were no towels so Winston had to stand in the tub to quietly drip-dry for a few minutes. He didn't want to leave puddles on the floor. Damn Slimer. Bleah! Egon had captured and thrown away Slimer's makeshift mistletoe wreath but not before both he and Winston had become covered in gooey ectoplasmic kisses. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck.

Hoping he had, at least, one change of clothes or a spare jumpsuit in his Marine footlocker he stepped out of the tub and walked, naked, slightly dripping, towards the bunkroom.

 

*Meanwhile, In the Second Floor Bathroom*

 

Egon, the ever-resourceful, had the last towel. It was the last towel anyone ever used, the white threadbare one with more holes than there was towel. Stepping out of the tub he tied the small thing around his waist and tried to position it for maximum modesty. He failed. Cursing slime, laundry day and mistletoe in idiomatic Sumerian he shook his curling platinum hair out of his eyes and, crossing the rec room, began to ascend the stairs to the 3rd floor.

 

*Meanwhile, On The Floor Behind Janine's Desk*

 

Peter Venkman lay in a slimy, grotesque heap, too angry to get off the floor. He had a holly pin clenched in one fist and he stared at the ceiling, frustrated by his inability to think up an appropriately horrific revenge on Janine and Ray. Every disturbing, sick and painful scenario was simply too good for them. Slimer was nowhere in sight. Unable to get the pin back he'd darted out the door in search of anything leafy and green to replace his 'mitheltoe.' Nothing was getting in the way of Slimer's good time. He was like the Unsinkable Molly Brown in that respect.

"To quote John Belushi," Peter snarled to no one "I'm going to feed their fingertips to the wolverines."

Then he smiled, remembering. Oh, the looks on their faces when he turned the corner and caught them. Janine and Ray had resembled a couple of kids trapped at the top of a roller coaster, helpless to stop a very interesting situation. Peter realized, with great satisfaction, that his original plan of teasing them for the rest of their natural lives was the best revenge possible.

What could be better?

A blast of cold, winter air swept along the floor as the front door opened, admitting an unexpected, but always welcome, visitor. Oozing upright Peter opened his slimy arms wide. "Big Mama Spengler! Give us a kiss!"

Egon's immaculately groomed and stylish mother stayed well out of arm's reach and smiled. "Oh, Peter. I'm not even going to ask what happened."

"Too bad, I'm gonna tell you anyway." He rubbed his hands together in his best Evil Mantis impersonation. "I'm telling Egon, too. C'mon. He's upstairs somewhere."

Mrs. Spengler very wisely kept Peter ahead of her as they mounted the stairs in search of her son.

 

*A Moment Later-In the Bunkroom - The Convergence*

 

"Janine?!"

"Winston?!"

Janine's jaw dropped in horror. She gaped at Winston as he grabbed up the nearest thing, Ray's Dopey Dawg doll, and covered himself with it. (Putting poor Dopey in a very compromising position.) A tall, lithe blond appeared at the door and stopped dead.

"Janine?!"

"EGON!"

"Spookums?!"

"MOTHER?!"

"Rocky!" Peter shouted and collapsed to the floor in a graceless salaam of joy. Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus.

"Good God, Spookums, WHAT is going on?"

"I don't know! Janine?"

"I don't know! I just wanted to borrow a shirt!"

Winston wanted to reach over and grab a blanket off someone's bed but that would require taking his back away from the wall and mooning Mrs. Spengler. He remained very still and tried to be as inconspicuous as a large, naked black man could be.

Peter remained on the floor, beyond laughter, practically in the Lotus Position. He was very, very happy and perfectly content to just Be In The Moment, beaming up at his friends. To think he didn't cause ANY of this! Something on the floor caught his eye and he surreptitiously picked it up.

Janine chose that moment to make a break for it. "Excuse me!" She jumped over Peter and escaped out the door. The laundry room. She had to get to the laundry room. Why didn't she put on her coat to begin with? Moron! Egon and his MOTHER. No. No. Nononononono....Janine had seen Egon's flesh tones through the cobweb of his towel. The memory of it increased her speed.

Mrs. Spengler stood in the doorway, in shock, a moment more. Then she noticed Winston. Great God Almighty. "Excuse me, too!" Out the door she went. What was going ON in this place?

Relieved, Winston threw down Dopey Dawg and grabbed a blanket. "Borrow a shirt? What happened to her own?!"

Egon gazed wordlessly, and somewhat accusingly, down at Peter. Peter made a great show of scratching his head. Think, think, think. He casually switched a small ball of lacy fabric from his right to his left hand and stood up.

"I don't know Winston." He aimed an innocent grin at them both. "Maybe Ray still has it."

He went out singing. "Merry Christmas to me! Merry Christmas to me! Merry Christmas, dear Peter, Merry Christmas to me!"

 

.

***********Season's Beatings*********** .

Janine didn't have time to take the stairs to the main floor. She cut quite an interesting figure sliding down the fire-pole in her red velvet mini-skirt, heels, hose with sparklies at the ankles and no top. Just a lacy bra. That's it. That's all. Oh, god.

She hit the ground and stumbled down the last flight of steps to the basement lab/laundry room and was brought to a violent halt by the locked door.

Inside, Ray jumped at the THUD! and, reluctantly went to investigate. There was Janine, down but not out, her face so red he could practically see the heat waves rising from it. He knelt down. Eye-level with each other, Janine stared at him in horror. "Hissss Mmmotherrrr!!" Ray had no idea what she was talking about but he nodded anyway. She continued, "Thisss...is...ALL YOUR FAULT!" Ray nodded again, agreeing completely, and held out his arms.

Janine collapsed against him and he half pulled, half dragged her inside.

And re-locked the door.

 

***Do You Know What I Know?***

 

Mrs. Spengler got as far as the rec-room and stood indecisively in front of the entertainment center. Too wound up to sit down she waited for someone to come to her. She cooled her burning face with her hand and wished for a plumed fan, something Scarlett O'Hara might use when she came down with a bad case of the vapors. Although when those Southern Belles said 'vapors' they MEANT gas...she shook her head. Squirrel Thoughts. A sure sign of senility.

"Merry Christmas, dear Peter! Merry Christmas to me!" Peter floated down the stairs and jumped in front of her, joy clearly exhibited in every inch of his sticky, ectoplasm-drenched body. "Mama Spengler! Sorry, we don't have a fainting couch."

"What in the world is going on?!"

"I thought you weren't going to ask?"

She gave Peter her trademark Don't Sass Me squint that worked so well on Egon. It didn't work on Peter. The incorrigible brat.

Egon appeared. He had regained his composure but he was still wrapped in that ratty towel. Mrs. Spengler made a mental note to stop by Macy's Holiday Whites Sale on her way home if she survived whatever was happening now.

Egon's voice was calm and very collected. "Peter, please answer my mother's question."

"Spengs, please put something on before your new nickname becomes 'Winky.'"

Egon looked down at himself and pulled a face. His mother almost laughed at the way her son drew his ragged dignity together and returned upstairs. She turned to Peter again and raised her eyebrows. Well?

Peter gave her his best smoldering Valentino gaze. "Gimme a big kiss and I'll tell you everything!"

Again with the big kiss. That was twice in five minutes and a continuing joke with him. He'd been teasing her ever since she met him. Egon's new friend had inspired her to remember a line from Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet.'

"An eagle hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye."

Hmmm, wouldn't he be surprised? Mrs. Spengler grabbed Peter by the ear and yanked his head down. Planting a barely-there kiss on his lips she released him immediately.

Peter blinked. She'd made a mistake. Calling Peter Venkman's bluff was ALWAYS a mistake. Hey, she deserved a very merry Christmas, too. He reached into his pocket and, bringing out the holly pin, held it over her head. His other hand fell to her shoulder. "I said a BIG kiss."

 

***Do You Hear What I Hear?***

 

Blondie's 'Call Me' was playing on the radio. "Call me! Call me, any, any, any time!" Egon and Winston were throwing on more layers of clothes than was physically comfortable but psychologically they were feeling much better. Winston's footlocker had been locked against Peter's 'What's mine is mine and what's yours is mine also' philosophy. So had Egon's trunk. Winston shook his head. No wonder poor Janine was still wandering around half-naked.

A strange beep brought his attention to Egon. Dressed, he was now studying a PKE meter with grim fascination. "What are you doing, man?"

"They're in the basement."

"Who?"

"Janine and Ray."

Winston sighed. "Egon, listen, for someone who doesn't give Janine the time of day you can sure be one jealous bastard."

Egon did not deign to reply and headed for the stairs. Winston smothered a laugh. Lord, what a day.

 

***Do You Feel What I Feel?***

 

Ray took a warm red and black checked flannel shirt, one of his own, out of the dryer and held it up for Janine. She turned around and put her arms into the sleeves as easily as if he were simply helping her on with her coat. "...and behind Egon was his MOTHER! The look on their faces! The way they looked at me! I wanted to DIE!" Ray adjusted her collar and tried hard not to get the nervous giggles but let out a snort anyway. She wanted to snap at him but the memory of Winston and Dopey Dawg overcame her and she let go. They laughed together, surrounded by the warmth of the dryer, the scent of Spring Breeze fabric softener and Janine's perfume. She wrapped her arms around him. Good 'ol Ray. You couldn't stay mad at him and he made the shittiest day shine.

 

***Do You See What I See?***

 

Winston gaped at the scene below him and froze. Whoa, whoa Nellie. Peter released Mrs. Spengler and Egon...Egon had been staring at the meter and missed the whole thing.

Winston turned his gasp into a loud cough. Peter coughed back. Then they were both choking, coughing and hacking as if they both had the worst bronchial infections imaginable.

"Ahem!" Mrs. Spengler joined in. "Ahem! Cough!"

Ignoring Peter and Winston, Egon looked up at her. "Mother, you're covered in slime. Did Peter put you in a headlock again?"

"NoIhavetogotoMacys!" She waved a lovely, manicured hand at them all, ta ta, and slid down the fire-pole to the first floor. They heard the front door open and close. So ended Mrs. Spengler's uneventful visit.

Egon was surprised. "She's never used the pole before." Sparing his clean clothes, he decided to forgo the grungy pole himself and continued, with deceptive calm, downstairs.

Unable to speak, Winston sat on the stairs and spread his hands out in the universal What The Hell? gesture. Peter could only respond with a ludicrous I Had To Do It expression. Then Winston remembered something important. "Peter! Egon's going after Janine and Ray!"

Peter quickly calculated the emotional dynamics of the residents of the firehouse. Conclusion: This bodes ill. Winston and Peter nearly fell down the stairs to get to the lower levels.

 

***All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth***

 

They reached the laundry room door just as Egon firmly knocked on it. "Whooo iss iiit?" Sang a voice from inside.

Peter shoved Egon out of the way and pounded on the wood. "NEWYORKPOLICEDEPARTMENTOPENTHISDOORNOWASSHOLE!!!"

"NYPD? Let's see some badges!"

Winston threw his weight against the door. "BADGES?! WE DON'T NEED NO STINKIN' BADGES!!" He slammed on the door with his fists while Peter kicked at it. Egon stood back and had the good grace to look abashed. What had he been thinking? What was he doing? What did he have the RIGHT to do? He shouted "GHOSTBUSTERS!!" and added his own frantic banging to Winston and Peter's.

"Not THEM! We give!" The door was unlocked and Ray threw it open.

All three men looked past him to Janine. She was laughing and surrounded by piles of neatly folded clothes.

Peter narrowed his eyes. All this time and they'd been folding clothes? Riiight. Winston studied Ray for signs of guilt and saw none. Egon scrutinized Janine.

"What?!" She demanded.

"Ah, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Egon. Merry Christmas, Winston n'Peter."

"Merry Christmas, Janine!"

"Happy Holidays, Ray!"

"Bon Saturnalia!"

"What?"

"Merry Christmas."

"Oh."

"God bless us, every one," Peter added, grinning.

For the peace of the firehouse and the beauty and glory of the Holiday Season the five of them smiled huge shit-eating smiles at each other and made a silent pact. The same pact Janine and Ray made when the two of them got this sordid ball rolling.

Whatever went on, or whatever we know or suspect went on...we will never speak of this again.

 

 

End