WARNING: Contains minor spoilers for Psycho. (If you haven't seen it, watch the original. Don't bother with the 1998 version.)

The little ghost at least had the grace to look guilty as he swooped away, disappearing up through the ceiling. He had apparently decided that the occasion of Janine leaving for a whole weekend warranted a surprise hug, and had managed to slime her pretty thoroughly in the process.

She sighed as she locked the doors and turned off the sign. She'd have to have a shower before she headed home, though riding the subway covered in green ectoplasm would probably guarantee her some personal space.

The guys were out on a bust, with a speaking engagement later that evening, so she turned off the lights as she got her spare clothes out of her locker and headed upstairs.

Peter grinned at Egon, who was liberally splattered with several colours of slime. "I can't be the lucky one every time," he said, obviously feeling turnabout was fair play. "Besides, since we don't have time for you to clean up, you get out of tonight's little shindig. Are you sure you didn't rig this somehow?"

"Quite sure," Egon replied as Winston idled Ecto in front of the firehouse. "Right now I think I'd prefer the appearance."

"I'll pretend I believe you. Go clean up and enjoy your reprieve."

The building was locked and silent as he entered. He went to the basement to empty the traps from the day's busts and strip off his jumpsuit, leaving it in the laundry bin. It seemed that only a little slime had made it through to his skin, but he still wanted to get it out of his hair as soon as possible.

The lights in the bunkroom and bathroom had been left on, the bathroom door slightly ajar. He grabbed a towel and pulled the door open.

She was standing in the tub sloughing excess water from her body when the door suddenly opened to reveal a tall, thin figure looming on the other side. Janine shrieked and jerked backwards in surprise, losing her footing on the wet enamel. She fell, banging her hip painfully on the rim of the tub before landing on her ass.

He pushed the bathroom door mostly shut again. Janine's objections to her sudden indignity trailed off, and the room was silent again for a moment.

"Egon?" She sounded as if she weren't quite sure he was really there. He briefly entertained the thought of trying to sneak away, but where could he go wearing only boxer shorts and a hard-on?

"Yes?"

Her tone of tried patience was one she normally reserved for Peter. "Do you think you get me a towel?"

"Er--of course." He opened the door sufficiently to toss the towel he was holding to her. The quick glimpse he got was of Janine sitting in the far end of the bathtub, more or less decently covered by the rim of the tub and her drawn-up knees. He remained frozen just outside the door as he heard the squeak of wet flesh on wet porcelain, a hiss of indrawn breath, and a soft thud. "Do you require assistance?"

"As long as you don't mean something crazy like calling an ambulance, yeah," she replied. "Just help getting out of this damn tub."

That would involve touching her. He felt his erection surge anew. Damn. Would he have time to get some clothes? They were in the bunkroom, several feet away.

"Egon?" she questioned again as he stood there dithering.

He took a second towel for camouflage and pushed the door open. She had wrapped her towel around herself, holding it tightly with one hand, her other hand on the rim of the tub as she tried to get her feet under herself without slipping and falling again.

Maybe he could help her up, then grab some clothes and hide in the lab before she noticed his state of arousal. It seemed a vain hope, considering she was nearly eye-level with it. Hoping that she wouldn't notice was rather like hoping Slimer wouldn't notice a plate of donuts left unattended. Given her long-standing--and somewhat inexplicable--romantic interest in him, she'd likely consider it a golden opportunity. Thinking about that unfortunately didn't help the situation.

She took the hand he offered and let him pull her up. She stepped gingerly out of the tub, taking care to stand on the bath mat rather than the tile floor. He released her hand--and managed to drop his towel--as soon as he was sure she was steady on her feet. "What are you doing sneaking around the place like Norman Bates, anyway?" she grumbled. She looked up from her feet and clapped her free hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle as she saw his multicoloured hair. "What happened to you?"

"I was the target of choice for several Class Fives." How to gracefully make his exit? "I wasn't expecting you to be here. I thought you'd left for the weekend."

"I would have, but Slimer decided he was feeling affectionate." She shivered slightly. He tried not to think about the state of her nipples.

She seemed to suddenly remember that he was en dèshabille as well. "Aren't you cold? I'm freez--" She glanced down and suddenly went very still. She looked back up at him, the hint of a smile on her lips and a touch of pink in her cheeks. Her face was bare of makeup, her damp bangs hanging in her eyes, and he decided that he liked the way she looked right now very much.

She took a step toward him; he retreated an equal distance. "Sometimes I think you're interested, but then it's like you don't even know I'm there. And now--it sure looks like you're interested." She made a vague gesture downwards.

He cleared his throat, his heart going a mile a minute. "I always know you're there." He had to pause to marshal his thoughts. "But I feel sometimes that you are, as Peter might say, way out of my league."

She looked nonplussed for a moment, then folded her arms across her chest. "Egon." Now she was using her no-nonsense, don't-argue-with-me tone. "You are a brilliant physicist and paranormal researcher with multiple doctorates. I am a secretary from a working-class Brooklyn family. I am out of your league how, exactly?"

"That wasn't quite how I meant it--well--I'm afraid of ruining a working relationship and a friendship I value." His face was beginning to warm. Bad enough to be confessing his insecurities to her, but did he have to do it practically naked? "You know I don't express my emotions well. I don't even understand them sometimes." He knew the ones he was feeling now all too well: embarrassment to the point of mortification, self-consciousness, awkwardness, and a guilty desire he didn't know how to express.

Her expression softened. "That just takes practice, Egon," she said. "You're not doing too badly--you've made three of the best friends a guy could ask for."

"Four," he corrected her. "But friends are not the same as lovers. My experience in--such intimacy is particularly limited."

She took another step toward him--this time he didn't move--and ran the fingertips of her free hand down his chest. "That just takes practice, too," she said, studying the path her fingers had taken. When she looked up at him again she was serious and sincere. "A patient partner doesn't hurt, either."

She had been nothing if not patient with him. He wanted so badly to be persuaded, but the logical part of his brain always talked him down. "What if I'm not worthy of your patience?"

She blew out a frustrated breath. Her shoulders fell and she ducked between him and the door frame, heading into the bunkroom. "I need to get going," she mumbled. His brief glimpse of the look on her face stung him more than he'd expected.

"Janine," he called after her, receiving no response. He caught up to her in a few strides and touched her shoulder; she froze. He turned her to face him, but she refused to look him in the eye. "I'm afraid of hurting you," he admitted. "Neither am I used to letting myself give in to temptation."

She finally met his eyes, still clutching her towel about herself, as he looked down at her. "I guess you have to decide what you really want, Egon. I'm tired of being in limbo."

They stood looking at each other for a long, uncomfortable moment. Before he could second-guess himself he bent his head and kissed her on the lips. She melted against him, letting her towel drop to the floor and putting her arms around his waist as the kiss lingered and deepened. He jumped when her fingers slipped under the waistband of his shorts and her nails raked gently along his buttocks. She pulled back enough to look up at him. "The others won't be back for a while." He offered no resistance when she pushed him back until he bumped up against the foot of his bed. She pushed him down onto it and knelt astride him.

She reached for his glasses, but he intercepted her hand. "I think perhaps I'd like to keep them on, if you don't mind." He tried to keep an innocent expression, but didn't quite make it. Janine looked amused but didn't argue.

"Well, I'm turning in," Winston said. "Leave some lunch meat for tomorrow, okay?"

"You snooze, you lose," was Peter's laconic answer.

Winston came back down the stairs barely a minute later. "What time did we drop Egon off?"

"I dunno, maybe five-thirty?" Ray guessed. "Why, isn't he here?" They hadn't seen any sign of him since arriving home and had assumed he was asleep.

"Yeah, he's here." He couldn't quite keep a straight face.

Ray looked confused. Peter looked intrigued. "Don't hold out on us, Zed, what's up?"

"He's okay, isn't he?" Ray asked.

"He's asleep, and he's probably feeling pretty damn good right now."

Peter looked suspicious. "How good?"

"Really good."

"Guys, what--" Ray tried to say, but Peter interrupted him.

"You don't mean--"

"I do."

"Seriously?"

"Looks like they tired themselves out."

Peter lit up like an eight-year-old on Christmas morning. "RAYGETTHECAMERA!"

"'They?'" Ray still hadn't quite caught up to the other two, but obediently rummaged in a cabinet until he came up with the Polaroid. Peter grabbed it from him and tiptoed up the stairs as fast as he could, the others following in his wake.

The bunkroom light was on. Winston was right--Egon was there, sound asleep, his glasses still on, Janine's head on his shoulder and her arm flung across him.

Ray collided with Peter, who had stopped in the doorway. "If somebody doesn't tell me what the hell is--" Ray started.

"Pipe down, Tex, you're going to spoil my chance," Peter hissed, moving so Ray could see past him. "There, see?"

Ray's eyes widened. "Oh. Why didn't you just say so?" he asked Winston.

"It seemed more fun to let Pete figure out for himself."

"Aren't they precious," Peter said, snapping a picture. Neither Egon nor Janine moved, so he got a couple more for good measure.

"Peter," Ray chided as they went back down the stairs. "Isn't taking pictures a little much?"

"Nah, they're decently covered," he replied breezily, waving the photos back and forth as they developed. "Besides, nobody will ever see them but us, and thirty years from now they'll think it's cute."

"Thirty years? I never knew you were such a romantic, Pete." Winston teased.

Peter grinned evilly. "Romantic hell, that's how long I'm not going to let them live this down. I'm going to have SO MUCH FUN WITH THIS."