Hello!! So I was just thinking in my room sleep deprived and looking at my ghostbusters poster until I came up with smth to request! T_T
Could we get a Egon Spengler x Fem!Reader scenario where they're both married and yknow, SOMETIMES reader comes along because they're forced to basically be there to monitor Egon and force them to sleep. Anyways, there's this one time where they get an alert but first time they go without reader nothing happens because the ghost is more attracted to women....SPECIFICALLY seductive/helpless women (eugh) and so Peter thinks "Hey let's bring reader" they agree except Egon (argument in car blah blah blah). LONG REQUEST SCENARIO SHORT. Everyone splits up. Egon is about to get attacked until the reader comes in and distracts the ghost. Meanwhile the reader flirts (acting) to the ghost. Egon can't help but be a little jealous by the way how they're talking to it. Make it anything you want! Jealous Egon sahakirh krhskqowjq okay thanks!
AHHH thank you sm for being my first ask!! you get this trophy🏆 (i legit jumped around all giddy after seeing this in my inbox) this turned out a lil longer than i expected (lol) but i wanted to do your request justice! hope you enjoy what i came up with<3
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Egon Spengler x Wife!Reader✨
★ w/c: 2k
★ cw: nothing really, just some light angst & fluff, a bit of a miscommunication troupe leading to a small marital spat lol
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
“No.”
“Come on, she’s the perfect candidate, Spengler.”
“It’s not happening, Venkman.”
“What’s not happening?”
You stand in the doorway of the kitchen at Ghostbusters HQ, voice carrying as you begin to take off your coat. All eyes turn to you.
It wasn’t out of the ordinary for you to be walking around the firehouse. Afterall, the whole team knew you were Egon’s wife, caring and devoted, and seemingly the only one able to make him smile over something other than proton valences. But it just so happened that your impeccable timing led you into interrupting an argument over their last (attempted) bust.
Initially, the job was supposed to be easy. A level III free-floating apparition at a hotel in central Manhattan. Nothing too difficult. But when the team approached the spirit’s location as it had come up on the PKE, it was nowhere to be seen. That didn’t stop the pest from attacking them with flying dishes and candelabras though…
Unable to land a hit on the ghoul, Egon and Ray hit the books and quickly discovered they were dealing with something closer to that of a succubus or incubus. All the sightings of the spirit were documented by female guests at the hotel…and that led Venkman to, what he thought was, the perfect plan.
“That’s why you’d be the perfect option to help,” Venkman says with a smile and a hand on his hip. Egon looks just about ready to strangle him.
“Peter, I already said–”
“Okay,” your voice stops Egon’s protest and focus lands on you again. “If it’d be helpful, I have no problem tagging along. Not like it’s the first call I’ve been on with you all.”
With a mention of your name, Egon moves over to your side, a hand falling to your waist in the way only he’s allowed to hold you, “I don’t know if this is the…smartest idea.”
“Doesn’t sound like you all have many other options,” you reply back with a small quirk of your brow.
He loves when you do that, challenge his opinions, keep him on his toes, but not right now. Not when he’s wanting to keep you safe— to keep his own sanity.
Ray joins the conversation, hoping to sway the vote, “Spengs, she does make a fair point…” Winston just watches, waiting for some decision to be made either way.
After a little more grumbling and groaning, you all load up into the Ecto-1, gear in place and ready to go.
— ★ —
The drive over is fairly silent. Peter and Winston are seated in front, bickering over Venkman’s ability to drive. Ray’s sitting a row away, tinkering with some device. And that leaves you and Egon, side by side in the back.
He’s quieter than usual, not that it’s entirely odd. Even the slight scowl on his face is fairly normal Egon behavior.
But this feels different.
After a long moment, you smile over to him. He sighs and tries to give a small smirk back. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Hey,” you say softly and push his hair back behind his ear. You know he loves it when you hold his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong…” He grumbles quietly back. You know better.
“Egon, really.” You continue to prod, “You can tell me if something’s bothering you. Communication’s–”
“Important. I know,” he sighs softly.
You’ve had this conversation at length, and he never means to trouble you like this with his difficulty finding the words, of being open and honest. Really he doesn’t. Eventually, he lets up, the words (of course) blunt.
“I just don’t like the idea of you coming on this call.”
The feeling that settles in your gut at the words isn’t entirely unfamiliar. After he’s the brilliant scientist turned ghost hunter, and you’re just the one making sure he gets enough sleep so he doesn’t keel over one day. You keep your voice steady and your feelings in check.
“Why not?”
“It’s not exactly safe.”
“I know that.”
Egon huffs softly, “I just mean…”
“I know what you mean.”
The words come out a bit harsher than you intend them to, but before he can get another word in, the vehicle comes to a stop.
— ★ —
By the time you all split up to search the building, Egon’s head is reeling.
Emotions aren’t his forte. He can analyze variables all day long but it’s not exactly the same with facial expressions and verbal responses.
While he’s not exactly the best at interpreting emotions, he can tell when you’re upset. Like the time he ‘borrowed’ your walkman to fix a wire on the spectral analyzer. It took him a whole two weeks and a trip to radioshack to get back on your good side.
“I know what you mean.” You had said it in B flat. He has your speaking mannerisms down to a science for sure.
Clearly, you’re upset, but this is different somehow. And he hasn’t exactly figured out why.
Egon walks through the halls of the hotel and dips into the kitchen. The space is cleared out, it now being a late hour of the evening. PKE meter in hand and outstretched, he hopes to find the ghoul before it finds you. Despite the recent squabble, he would never want something happening to you.
All of a sudden, a large crash sounds behind him. He jumps, turning and looking around for the source of the sound at least. His eyes go wide when he sees it: a whole set of sharpened knives free floating and pointed directly at him.
“Oh god…” He says softly, not knowing much else to do. He braces for impact, arms pulled up close to his face, when–
“Hey!”
The knives clatter to the floor almost a second later.
When Egon finally gets the braves to pull his hands from his eyes, he sees you…standing right across from the spirit.
The ghost, finally visible, is a full body apparition, appearing male, dressed in some type of tattered suit. He seems suave yet still dangerous and dated, like something out of a 20s mobster film. He seems to be staring back at you, almost as entranced as Egon is in the present moment. And you stand in between the two of them, breath drawn and prepared to brawl.
“Hey…ghost…” You repeat, voice a bit more hesitant than last time.
“Hey yourself, doll…” He smiles back, the vision almost charming, were he not some sort of manifestation of the dead.
Eyes wide as saucers, you almost expected the ghoul to be silent or at least not reply in such a…seductive voice? He takes a step closer to you, seemingly forgetting about the third party in the room.
“What? Surprised I have such an eye for beauty?” The ghost laughs back.
Egon opens his mouth, your name on his lips before the spirit flicks his wrist and sends him flying off to some corner of the room. Your hand moves to cover your mouth covering your small gasp. You’re just about ready to charge, when the ghoul summons you closer as well.
“Aren’t you a pretty thing,” he says, a finger moving gently under your chin.
You make no move to protest, eyes stuck on the being in front of you. A moment later, your eyes flicker over his shoulder to Egon just barely recovering, face drawn in a scowl. You quickly focus back on the ghost and decide on a plan.
“You’re…fairly charming yourself.”
Egon glares back, unbelieving of what you, his wife, just said. His proton pack powers on.
The ghost just smiles back at you, hand moving gently to your waist. “Oh you think so, huh? Good to know.”
You just smile right back, keeping up the playful little game you’ve started. “Definitely the most charming ghost I’ve met by far.”
“And have you met many?” He huffs a small laugh.
“You’d be surprised…” You giggle right back.
He settles into a patient smile and pulls you in even closer. “Glad to know I’ve beat the competition. And what about the more…comporeal beings?” He asks, noticing the ring on your finger.
You swallow glancing down at your finger as well and decide to double down on your efforts, “I’d say you’re far more interesting.”
“Hm,” He hums, the sound turning to a small giggle. Eyes flick to your lips. He leans in, “Well then how about we—“
His statement is cut off abruptly as the blast of the proton pack shocks the ghoul. In a flash, a ghost trap slides across the floor and the spirit’s boxed up for good.
You let out a sigh of relief.
— ★ —
“Now that’s what I call an open and shut case, ladies and gentlemen!”
Beers clink as the team sits around the same table they did hours before, celebrating another win. Peter’s boisterous voice blares across the small crowd and he ushers you into a small side hug.
Ray raises his beer in solidarity before taking a swig, while Winston laughs along too.
You giggle, happy to see everyone in such high spirits after a fairly stressful 24 hours. That is until your eyes casually drift over to your husband, who’s currently trying to sneak off.
You appear in the doorway to the lab a few moments later with a soft smile and joking tone.
“Did Venkman finally annoy you enough to run away entirely?”
Egon glances up at the sound of your voice. He sighs a small attempt at a laugh, “No…no.”
You climb down the final step of the staircase and walk over to his side. Your hand moves to his hair, pushing it back behind his ear, but he stops your hand. He gently moves your palm down, clutched tightly in his own.
“What’s wrong?”
Egon closes his eyes for a moment and grumbles. “Nothing.”
A soft breath out in frustration, you stand firm and decide to finally push the subject. “I get that you think I’m not cut out for this or capable like you are, but you don’t have to try and hide it, okay?”
As the words spill out quickly, Egon stares back, genuinely surprised. “I didn’t— I did not say that.”
“You don’t have to say it,” you justify. “Your actions say enough. You didn’t want me going on the call and then on the ride there–“
Egon says your name softly and you quiet down. He stands from his seat and moves closer to you silently.
“I didn’t want you getting hurt, and I didn’t want, well…” he stops short.
Your eyes stay trained on him and you squeeze his hand lightly.
He continues, “You’re more than capable. More than adequate. I just…I don’t like the thought of you finally realizing I’m not.”
“What?”
He sighs softly, willing himself to continue. “I knew the particular subset of skills required for this call and seeing you…conversing with the spirit…”
“Egon,” you say softly, “I was acting.”
“Acting or not, one can infer–“
“One can infer nothing.” He looks back up at you, silently staring. Your head gives a small shake. “Do you have any clue why I married you?”
“Because of a genetic imperative to find an adequate mate and produce offspring.”
“Because I love you.”
His face heats up a bit as he keeps his eyes trained on you. The words process. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” you smile back and move in closer, he easily lets you. And you push up to press a kiss to his forehead. He leans into the feeling. Nothing else feels quite as nice as when you hold him dearly.
I’m not sure if your requests are open or not but I was wondering if I could get a Egon X reader who is smart (not really smart) but smart and one day he’s rambling about fungi and he gets a fact incorrect and reader corrects him and he’s just like
🧍🏻
I love it when you talk science
Idk it popped into my head seems the sorta thing he’d do
i am taking requests! you're my first request and oh my god i love it sm. i'm sorry if the fungi talk is a little minimal or even a bit basic, as i do not know much about it but i am researching a bit, just for you! :) hope you enjoy it!
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Penicillium, Not Penicillin
Egon Spengler x Reader
WARNINGS : none!
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IT WAS NORMAL FOR EGON TO TALK ABOUT his love for fungi. In fact, you loved when he talked about it very much. You learned a lot from the talks that you two have. Sometimes, you even take notes because the things he spills out are so interesting. So when you were at the Firehouse, you were settled in your usual spot in the lab, hearing him talk about another fungus. The famous one most people know. The one that people mixed up.
You're looking back at your notes and you notice something, mainly because you were absent mindedly listening. Maybe it was indeed a mixup, but, when Egon was talking again, you immediately noticed it.
"A lot of people know that penicillin can spread through mostly food, but it can also be found on different fabrics, too," Egon explained.
"Penicillium ..." you mutter, fixing your notes that you have just written down.
Egon turns around from the current activity that he's multitasking on. You look up at him. If you hadn't been so close to him, you wouldn't have noticed the slightly widened eyes that he currently wore behind his glasses.
"Sorry?"
"Penicillium," you repeat, "Not penicillin. Penicillin is the antibiotic that comes from the fungi that I assume that you're talking about. Penicillium is the actual fungi that you're referring to. It's a common misconception. One that I am surprised that you have mixed up."
"Had I? Well, I didn't even notice," Egon told you.
"I know, because you were so invested in it," you say back, "Also, Penicillium can grow in any material that is water - damaged, so if you guys don't clean up after yourselves if you spill things on the floors or anything else that we have that wooden, we will have a penicillium problem. And that may even be more of a problem than New York's ghost problem."
You look back up, waiting for a response from the other scientist. But, he looks at you, seemingly flabbergasted that you even corrected him in the first place.
"Egon?" You ask. You almost get worried, "Earth to Egon ... What are you thinking about in that huge brain of yours?"
He eventually breaks from whatever reality that he's in. You wait for a response. You almost stand up to walk over to him, but you don't, since you see that small little smirk that appears on his face.
"I love it when you talk science," he says to you.
A smile crept up on your face as soon as he said that to you. "I can talk more science," you say. "That is, if you want me to."
Egon then sits down right across from you. You can tell that he's definitely invested in what you have to say now.
IDEA:what if the reader and egon are like in a secret relationship and nobody knows till Egon shares some of a chocolate bar, and like she thanks him by giving him a kiss and every one is just flabbergasted. 😲 And Egon just stands there and becomes a blushing mess 😳 cuz he doesn't know what to tell the others
This screamed at me. So let’s do it.
“Spengs got a date before Venkman!”
You were close friends with the ghostbusters, they saved you a few times (not that you found trouble more that it found you) and you’d grown very close with Dr Egon Spengler. The man fascinated you, and surprisingly you fascinated him.
Currently you were sat in the lab with him, he was mainly doing emotional tests on the mood slime they’d found under New York, something you found mildly interesting. You and Egon had been dating for roughly a year, of course both of you agreed to keep it under wraps for now. The others came in and you looked up from your notepad giving them a soft smile.
Egon was eating a Twinkie (his ‘lunch break’) when they came in. He finished it and turned his attention to the others and you perked up. Egon never shared his Twinkies with anyone so when you asked for one, and he threw you the last one in the packet everyone was surprised. You opened it and began eating as you made more notes, the slime bubbling at everyone’s surprise. You looked up and tilted your head before closing the note book and finishing the Twinkie off. You went over to them and pressed a gentle kiss to Egons forehead as you sat beside him.
Peter and Ray looked at eachother then back at you and Egon. Though he was good at hiding his emotions inside he was a blushing flustered mess screaming at how casual you’d been. Winston chuckled and nudged Ray looking at Peter “Spengs got a date before Venkman!”
I have a request for egon, if you don't mind. so, in my idea, egon and reader have known each other for a while, like since the beginning of college or evwn childhood friends. reader is loud, bossy, witty, and sarcastic, but with him, she's completely different. One second, she'll be telling Peter off, and then she turns to egon and is like, "🌸💮😚Do you need anything bestie boo?☺️🌺💐" (she has the fattest most obvious crush on him, and he doesn't get it for the longest time.)
I love ur work sm pls don't die <3
I'd Love You to Want Me (The Way That I Want You)
Pairing: Egon Spengler/F!Reader
HI!!!! I'm sorry it's been so stupid long...the life monster got me, my laptop stopped working for a while, and I've been dealing with some health related things but I'M BACK!! SUMMER'S HERE!! I apologize if this isn't what you envisioned...I feel rusty in the creative department </3
thank you for your kind messages :( I read and reread them every day while I was gone, and they kept me going when I felt washed. I DO IT FOR Y'ALL!!! HAPPY EARLY GHOSTBUSTERS DAY!
better formatting on Ao3! (italics)
Summer, sometime in the 60’s. Elon had run ahead of his twin brother as they made their way down the forest trail. The twins were on a rare outing, not in search of any particular flora, but to simply explore. Miraculously, they were getting bored. Who would’ve thought the word could exist in a Spengler’s vocabulary? If Egon was a little older, he’d know that they were, in actuality, just growing older and silently ready for a life outside their antiquated, Queens home.
Along the tree lined path, something made the young boy stop in his tracks, bent over to get a closer look into the sudden mini-cliff where the trail seemed to end.
“Go away,” a little voice called up towards him. Elon was undeterred, still more curious than friendly, but still undeterred.
Elon tilted his head, a juvenile smile on his face. “You look funny,” he put his hands on his hips. When Egon got closer, he saw you in outdoorsy clothes that were definitely not made for you. Even worse, you were covered in dirt and caked with mud around your pant legs and the ends of your sleeves. You were digging, or building, or doing something that called for you to terrorize the little patch of dirt, rocks, and grass.
You frowned. “You look funnier. And stupid.”
Point made- most kids outside their neighborhood didn’t match with their siblings, no matter how identical, in dainty little boy’s clothes, especially not when they were supposed to be playing. “No boys allowed.”
Elon took personal offense, still in his “boys vs. girls” phase. He’d absolutely grow out of it, but Egon would never be able to decide if it was for better or for worse. Elon hopped into your clearing. “What’re you doing, anyway? I bet it’s stupid, just like you.”
The boys had just noticed the pile of branches, leaves, and flowers- little touches needed for decoration, that you stood in front of proudly. “I’m making a hide-out,” you crossed your arms, “I’m digging for supplies.” Egon was getting too hot for this. All he really wanted was to head home.
Despite the sizable amount you’d found, Elon wasn’t satisfied with your pitiful female-gathering-ability. He shook his head and laughed patronizingly, just like his father.
“We can find way more than you! Watch!”
Before Egon could protest, his brother was halfway across the woods, picking up whatever he saw. He caught sight of the progress you’d made in a private spot away from the beaten path, a makeshift clubhouse constructed by scrap wood dumped by the creek and discarded blankets- rudimentary, but effective. Egon’s elementary desires took over, the place looked like a kid-sized fairy garden, and he yearned to see it finished and inhabitable.
You watched on smugly as Elon tripped over himself in an attempt to prove that he was of the better sex. “Boys are idiots,” you forgot that the carbon copy of the idiot you tricked into doing grunt work for you was standing silently to the side. You stared at the ground in timid embarrassment. “Sorry.”
More silence ensued. As interested as he was in your abode in the woods, his legs were itching from prickly sweat. You must’ve been waiting for a response, an insult, a challenge like Elon’s, but he was more interested in the rocks near the makeshift door you’d craft.
You were in front of him with wildflowers of all kinds to be stuck in the wet clay and dirt that you used to bind everything together. “You can help me,” you weren’t the loudmouth girl he’d first seen covered in dirt just then, but deliberate. A caring confidence. “Our house should look pretty.”
Until school started back, he’d spend any spare time he had with you, while Elon had to prove himself to be a valuable asset for you to waste your time with. You were neighborhood friends for a long time, meeting often by chance at the park, in the woods. You were their personal bodyguard against anyone or anything scary, but mostly Egon’s, as half the time he barely registered danger. “Where’d you be without me?” You teased, telling off the older bullies that liked to corner you on the way to the candy store.
Once middleschool came, you were placed in the same classes from the jump, at your parents’ request. “The little princes,” they called the twins, “and their dragon,” you were dubbed. Egon respected your dignity in the title- if people thought you were shrewish just like they thought he was weird, then you’d be weird and mean and bossy and loud and quiet. Together. Elon could stick around, too, you decided.
You passed the time during lunch under the bleachers. “Kiss, Marry, Kill: Mary, Shelby, and Annie,” Elon grinned mischievously, hormonal and growing up to be quite the Casnova. Egon shut his book.
“Marry all 3,” he leaned back on his hands. Egon watched you heave a sigh.
“One hostage isn’t enough?” You spoke on behalf of the girls’ autonomy. “You’re too annoying to marry anyone.”
Elon wasn’t phased. “They’re all in love with me anyways. And cute. Why be selfish?” Egon was starting to wonder what his brawny, already hairy classmates wanted with his baroque brother. Girls were prizes to be displayed at this age, not valentines to be romanced.
“Kiss, Marry, Kill: Me, Mike, Egon."
Egon cringed internally, feeling sorry for you. Your only options were his brother, of all people, and the two freakiest boys in your grade. His attention was taken off his copy of Dracula.
“Kiss Egon, marry Egon, kill you and Mike,” you answered proudly.
“Why kill me? We have the same face!”
“Because you’re the worst.” The bell rang, and Elon made his way back to the field, not before getting a friendly insult in.
Egon twiddled with the book's pages. “Thank you,” he said softly.
“For what?” The other boy was gone. You were your flowery self again.
It must’ve been important, if you were willing to put him in two slots. You saved him from an embarrassment that he didn’t even understand. “For not killing me.”
You giggled, taking a turn at fidgeting with the dry grass under the shade of the bleachers above you. “I’ll always marry you. Ok, Kiss, Marry, Kill: Me, Shelby, Carrie.”
Easy question, he thought. “Kiss you, marry you.” Simply returning the favor. He watched you shake your head. What’d he do?
“You hafta kill someone.”
“They shouldn’t die.”
“That’s how you play!”
“I don’t like this game.”
“Egon?”
“Hm?”
You lay back on the cool ground, arms and legs splayed out in the safety of your schoolyard hideaway. “Keep reading. You’re at my favorite part.”
College, and you both managed to stay friends. And make new ones, evident by the lived-in dorm now looking a little co-ed, shirts and socks and personal effects of all sizes and styles littering the room only meant for two. The law journal on the edge of Egon’s desk, however, was yours- and he made a personal note to not disturb it amongst his own chaos.
He sat at that desk, while you were on the floor, flashcards in hand. “What’d Goffman conceptualize in 1956?
“Responding to social cues and emotions,” a Peter with a little more hair answered confidently as he leaned against Ray’s pillow.
Ray was less sure. “A major change in attitude based on fact?”
You dropped the cards. “Can you guys stop being idiots for at least a few minutes?”
“What’s got your panties in such a twist?” Venkman asked noncommittally, leaning off the bed to collect the small bit of study material he actually had. “30 out of 60 is not my rock bottom.”
Egon watched on as you grabbed your book off of the desk, nearly sending his papers flying. It wouldn't have made much of a difference, in the hectic and impossibly small space. By now, he wasn’t phased by what he knew was vigor. At your adult age, your peers thought of you as less bossy and more of a hardass. But Egon knew better; you were just passionate in your studies, your values, grabbing his arm when you watched scary movies and crossed the street and went through large crowds.
“My panties are perfectly fine. I’d rather get them twisted studying for my mock trial, but I’m stuck quizzing you on your own major.” You attempted to pace, trying to find the last page you were on. They all knew you were working hard in class, but the chance to attend a competition at your university was reserved for older, more experienced students. Egon found himself smiling fondly at your dedication.
He turned the chair to talk better. “You should be proud of yourself,” he said simply, though he knew you were.
Ray and Peter exchanged a look when you shrunk into your notes, fixated on your scribbles in the corner, which you treated with the reverence of actual work. “It’s not a big deal,” you laughed softly, “We’ve been doing it since grade school.” Egon can remember being taken from courtroom to courtroom across the state, there as emotional support. “I do better when you’re there,” you admitted with a flushed face. And you always won, celebrating with the sugariest dessert you could find in whatever podunk town you competed in.
Peter scoffed. “Careful with the royal we, your honor. Egon was just the waterboy.”
“If it’s nothing, why’re you in such a bad mood?” Ray asked, honestly but friendly. He knew you could get like this- they all knew. And he knew you could get like this whenever your precious mutual friend was around.
You shut the notebook with a snap, turning on your heel to leave. “It’s the most important thing in my life right now, Ray.”
“At least tell us the right answer,” Peter called after you.
“I hope you fail your exam.”
Egon caught up with you later while you were on your way back from the library. “I’m serious, when I say that this is something to be proud of.”
You pursed your lips, arms folded as you walk across the lawn. Egon watched you grin to yourself, backlit by the warmth of the setting sun. These were his favorite moments with you, admittedly, and they felt few and far between when you both had gotten old and complicated. As much as he admired your work ethic, your pension for stirring up trouble, how often did he see this part of you when you weren’t wrapped up in work or your friends’ antics?
“Thanks,” you finally spoke with a gentle smile, “I know you are.”
A comfortable lull as a breeze passed by, Egon’s hair that had stayed long and cherubesque since you were kids exposing his forehead as the wind blew past. You stopped in a fit of laughter, and Egon blushed sincerely. He felt boyish, and a little embarrassed, betrayed by his defining feature.
“I suppose it’s time,” he said grimly while putting it all in place again, referencing exactly what you thought he was.
“No!” You tangled your fingers in his hair as if you were protecting it. “At least, not until the trial’s over.”
“That’s interesting.” His scientific mind was always on. “Do you think my appearance will affect your performance?”
You didn’t think twice. “Absolutely.” Your fingers took to grabbing curls and letting them bounce back. “You don’t want me to lose, right?”
Egon didn’t mind your closeness. You’ve done this since you were little. “Is that a formal invitation to come and watch?”
Your hands found the nape of his neck, resting there. The music majors were taking advantage of the weather and practicing from across the grass. “Please.”
“Isn’t life absurd?” Ray sniffled from the evening chill while he and Peter leaned out the tiny window of the dormitory watching you and Egon head back to your room to do some prep work.
“I’ll say.” Peter tracked you all the way across the lawn, tired of your backwards way of doing practically everything. “The real answer was ‘impression management.’”
The day of the trial, you had to wait in the lobby before anything officially started, or else you’d have a meltdown in the middle of the courtroom floor. Tangibly, you had everything: files, notes, facts, every point you were to make memorized to a tea. But something big felt missing, like when you stepped out for school without a backpack or deodorant. You caught yourself in the reflection of some glass decoration in a display case. Metaphysically, you were a mess.
Egon walked through the door then, Ray and Peter tailing in behind him. After a spike in your anxiety, you calmed down, wading through spectators and participants to get to your friend. Friends, fine.
“You don’t know how glad I am that you’re here.”
Peter held you by both shoulders. “Hope we’re not too late,” he grinned.
“Go away.”
“Good luck,” Ray smiled and wished you well as he and Peter made their way into the courtroom.
“It’s not too crowded here?” Egon shook his head at your concern, and you realized that he looked nicer than normal today, you’d never seen that vest before. “What’s the occasion?” you teased. He had a close approximation to a smile, seeing straight through you, knowing that you knew that he knew you were still incredibly anxious. You still weren’t sure if you hated him for that near superpower, not just calling your bluff but not caring that you were bluffing in the first place. The freaks and hardasses of the world need to stick together.
In the bustle of the competition, surrounded by your strictest peers and educators, he spoke low and only for you. “Do what you always do.”
When your eyes met again, you tried to speak, but words and thought had failed you. So you didn’t. And when your hands clumsily found the stitched edges of his collar, a teammate opened the grand door to fetch you.
Egon was able to score sometime in between jobs to change out of his flight suit and into some court appropriate attire. Thankfully, because of a specific hardass’ persistence, your district was leaning in favor of public criminal trial. He knew that this case had been hanging over your head like a rain cloud for a while now, and with his hectic schedule he wanted to make sure that he was there for you like he had been before. “Ghost-busting?” you used to tease him. “That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
Members of the public stood around in the atrium of the courthouse, when their modest chat was disrupted by the ornate wooden doors flying open.
“Egon!” You beamed, running towards him. It was hard to contain his pride in you when you collided into his arms, not caring that two scholars of such distinction were acting like this in a place of order and law. You seemed to glow with the glory of winning over such a strenuous trial.
The shrewd, bossy little girl was in his arms, until the obnoxious, hardass woman he’d begun adulthood with grabbed his collar for the second time, pressing her lips to his. Whenever he started to kiss back, maybe once the persecutor excused himself from the hall, two decades of puzzle pieces finally put themselves together.
Summery - Egon has trouble expressing how he feels about her. When her date cancels Peter jumps at the opportunity to help his friend out.
There are many ways to express love, there's physical touch, compliments, or just flat out telling the person you love them. For Egon Spengler however showing love was complex. He never really felt romantic love for anyone, so, he showed in his own special way.
The only problem was she had no idea that he had feelings for her. The affection he showed seemed something that any normal friend would have for another. The other ghostbuster however knew immediately. They know by the way Everytime she came into the lab he made sure she had a stool to sit on. Even if it meant kicking Peter out of his seat so she could sit.
They knew by the way everyone time he was eating his snacks he would share. Which was unheard of. The first time it happened the three boys say there with wide eyes. "What?" She asked taking another bite of the Twinkie. "You're eating Spengs Twinkie." Ray explained and peter started to give Egon a knowing smile. "He offered," she shrugged. "Of course, why wouldn't he Egon is always so good with sharing. Isn't that right Spengler?" Peter chuckled leaving the room before he could get a response. Y/n just shook this off thinking nothing of it, and life went on.
Painfully Egon would watch her go on dates that would only break her heart. Knowing full well that he would never do that to her. Peter and Ray was done with his moping and small pointless hints. "You gotta do something." Ray insist but Egon only shakes his head and looks down at the file.
"Spengs, you can't live your life like this. Watching the girl you like go on dates with some other dude! That's, that's just I don't know what that is but it isn't good." Peter shook is head disappointed and Egon looked up at him.
"I don't like her." The two men looked at him expectedly, "it's more than that. It's difficult to describe. She almost has this hold on me, and I just can't seem to-"
"Oh, my God! Egon is in love. Who would have guessed." Venkman shouted hitting ray in the shoulder. "Well I had an idea." Ray mumbled, "no you didn't." Peter rolled his eyes grabbing the bag of chips off his desk. "So, what now?"
Their conversation ended with the door creaking open and some guy walking through awkwardly. He was taller and had dark hair and smiled at the men. "Huh, so Y/n has a type?" Peter mused looking at Egon. "Good for you buddy."
"Excuse me does an Y/n L/n work here?" The man asked sounding almost disgusted. "She does." Egon answered with narrowed eyes, "she like answer the phones?" They all shook their heads, and the man's smile dropped.
"She's not?" And Ray and Peter nodded with a smile. "She's a ghostbuster? Like an actual ghostbuster?" He scoffed, "what about it?" Egon asked and Pete wanted to make popcorn. "No offense, but come on do you wanna go out with a girl thats covered in ghost mucous?"
Egon stared at the man blankly, "it's called ectoplasm, and one would infer that any man would have no problem going on a date with a women such as Y/n."
"Look the whole ecto - what ever stuff isn't really my thing. Could you guys tell her that something came up?"
"It would be my pleasure." Egon smiled and the man left. "This is great!" Pete shouted, "how?"
"Egon don't you see, I tell her that the dates a no show. You come in all hero like, ask her out and boom the wedding bells might as well already be ringing." Egon looked at him apprehensive then he hesitantly nodded.
So, Peter waited and he jumped right up when Y/n finally walked in. "Y/n, can I see you in my office?"
"Can it wait, I want a shower I have a date tonight. Can't show up dripping in ecto." She laughed and Pete took in a sharp breath. "About that, he came in today and he said that something came up. Sorry Hun." She sighed looking down, "oh, that's alright. I wasn't that excited about it anyway."
"Well uh after you get cleaned up Egon was actually looking for you." She nodded and went up to the showers. Egon waited in his lab fixing his hair, and flattening his lab coat. "Hey Egon?" She called her voice not as chipper as usual. "Hey, hello how are you? She smiled, "I'm ok," she noticed how nervous we was and asked; " how are you?"
"Well, actually I um, I heard about your date cancelation, I thought, well perhaps you would go on a date with me?" He asked nervously adjusting his glasses his eyes never leaving the ground. "Egon you don't have to give me a pity date." His head shot up, "no it's not out of pity. It's out of opportunity. I have been wanting to ask you for some time." She looks at him with apprehension. "It's true. Y/n, I have had strong feelings for you since well college. Hell I've been in love with you since college. I watch you with these men and I can't help but think they aren't good enough for you." She stared at him and he closed his eyes tightly wishing he didn't say anything at all. "I apologize I just -"
"I love you too." She interrupted, "I have for some time and I was only going on those dates cause j thought they were my only option. I had no idea." She took his hand, "I love you, Egon." They gazed into each other's eyes leaning in and kissing each other lightly. It had such passion, and the kiss had such sparks that their breath was being taken away from their lungs. "Spengs! Did you ask her!? Did ya!?" Peter asked from upstairs, "Venkman! Let them be!" Ray shouted, "sorry Egon!"
this is my first time writing anything for the ghostbusters! so it'll probably suck :) gif not mine
The wind tickled your face as you walked to work clutching a box of doughnuts and holding a tray of coffee. The click of your heeled boots faded into the morning sounds of the city. You worked with the ghostbusters helping Janine out with phone calls and paperwork. You were the one who kept the cabinets and fridge stocked at the station. As you walked in you could hear the music coming from Ray’s radio, the shuffling of Janine’s paperwork, and the sound of Egon tinkering with his pack.
“I have arrived with coffee and donuts my darlings” you call out as you use your foot to shut the door. There was now a shuffle of footsteps heading for you and yells of excitement.
Janine took the box of doughnuts from your arms as you handed them each their specific coffee.
“You are truly an angel amongst this lot” Peter praises accepting his coffee. You laugh rolling your eyes at his antics. Winston patted your shoulder as he sipped his coffee.
“You get it right every time” He smiles at you. Ray gives you his usual good morning hug taking the hot cup from your gloved hands. Janine is grateful to accept the drink before the phone begins to ring. You grab Egon’s favorite doughnut from the box and his coffee heading for his lab.
“I have your breakfast Dr. Spengler” you announce entering the lab. Little did you know Egon would get flustered each time you called him by his title. You were the type of person that called people pet names when you truly care for them. Whenever you call him ‘honey’ he melts, but you don’t know that. Seeing you in a stylish yet warm outfit with a bright smile on your face holding food for him made him feel something he couldn’t describe.
“How many times must I tell you calling me Egon is fine” he jests taking the doughnut and coffee from you.
“As many times as it takes for me to get it right honey. Enjoy your food I’ll be back shortly” you disappear into the station to go about your daily tasks. After a few hours of tackling your more demanding tasks you decide to check the pantry and fridge taking note of everything they need. Asking everyone to pick their own personal snacks. As you head out you pop into the lab after softly knocking to alert Egon of your presence.
“Honey, I’m going to get some groceries for the kitchen. Do you need anything while I’m out?” asking as you stroll over to his desk with your pen and notepad. “I already put a box of Cheez-It’s on the list for you. I saw that you were low” you add.
“I think that’s all then. Are you going alone?” he asks as you get ready to walk away.
“Yup, I’m going to walk there, shouldn’t be too bad” replying with a light shrug, at that he stood up discarding his lab coat, replacing it with his suit jacket. “Egon, honey I can go alone” you try to convince him.
“I’m overdue for a break anyways. I can carry the bags for you.” He places aa hand on the small of your back walking you out the lab. You receive curious looks from the rest of the team.
“We’ll be back darlings!” you inform them, before realizing you left your purse in the kitchen. “I have to go grab my purse. I’ll be right back hon” Peter had a shit-eating grin on his face looking at Egon. Janine was giggling trying to cover it up with her magazine. Ray and Winston just looked smug.
“You got it bad Spengs” Peter grinned at his friend.
“Almost as bad as she has it” Winston adds.
“Just ask her out, I promise she wouldn’t say no” Ray says popping a cigarette between his lips. Janine makes a noise of agreement as you return to the room.
“Come on honey let’s go” you grab Egon’s large hand lightly pulling him out the station.
“Take your time honey! We’ll miss you” Peter hollers behind you two as the door closes. You expect Egon to let go of your hand as you exited the station, but his grip tightened instead. Holding you closer through the crowd as he leads you both to the store. Grabbing a buggy once you arrive he offers to push it as you collect everything on the list. Just taking the store aisle by aisle since Peter said take your time, you’ll use it to your advantage. You added some groceries you needed for your apartment as well. As you searched for the items needed, Egon just admired you. He helped you when you needed to get things from a higher shelf. That’s when you took your turn to admire him. Winston wasn’t wrong that you had it bad for Egon. How could you not? You may not be into science as much as he does, but you loved to hear him talk about his findings and his interests. You would let him talk to you about anything, and he even listened when you would talk about your interests. He never made you feel like you were less intelligent, he thought you were brilliant and provided stimulating conversation. As you tried to reach a box of your favorite cereal, Egon chuckled watching your attempt before reaching right past you to grab it.
“You two look like such a sweet couple” a pair of elderly ladies gushed. Instead of ruining their vision you flash them a sparkling smile, wrapping your arms around his waist.
“Thank you so much! He’s the absolute sweetest, just like honey” you gush looking up at him for a moment before looking back at the ladies.
“I bet he is. You two enjoy yourselves. Love is a wonderful thing” the shorter of the ladies say grabbing the taller one’s hand looking at her like she hung the stars in the sky.
“Have a wonderful day lovelies!” you wished them as they headed past you. You haven’t let go of Egon yet. His hand rested on your waist keeping you between him and the buggy. He only let you go to grab the items on the list until it was time to pay. Once everything was bagged and paid for he took hold of your hand as you walked back to the station. He’s been quiet since the conversation with the ladies, but not in an uncomfortable way. More like the gears were turning in his brain trying to figure out what to say. When the fire station was in sight he began walking faster pulling you along to keep up with his long strides. A chorus of ‘hello’s or welcome back’ rang through the station, but he was on a mission, so your ‘hi darlings’ trailed off quickly. Placing the bags he carried on the counter he gestured for you to do the same. However, he stopped you from putting away the groceries.
“What’s wrong honey?” you asked concerned, you haven’t seen him look this flustered since you gave him a hug for the first time.
“Why didn’t you correct the ladies in the store?” he asked as he started pacing around the kitchen.
“They looked so precious Egon. The way they looked at us. I couldn’t tell them otherwise. Besides why would I want to disagree with them?” you rhetorically asked. Pausing in his pacing, he stares at you like you said something crazy. “Don’t give me that look Spengler” you huffed leaning against the counter, crossing your arms looking away from him.
“You wouldn’t mind being seen with me?” he asked in a low tone. It was your turn to look at him crazy.
“Are you kidding?” you pause taking in the look on his face, he was genuinely asking. “Egon, honey why would I ever mind being seen with you? It is an absolute honor in my eyes to be seen with you” you reach for his hands. “How are you so smart, yet so oblivious?”
“I am not oblivious” he retorts with a pout.
“Egon, I love you but you’re oblivious. How upfront do I need to be to get you to understand?” you ask gazing into his warm eyes. You let his hands go breaking the moment. “I’ll start putting the groceries away, we can continue this later” turning away quickly dismissing your admission. Despite what you were trying to do, Egon had different plans. He gently grabs your hand turning you around pinning you between his body and the counter.
“Can you say it again?” his tone was almost desperate, as if he didn’t believe you could possibly feel that way for him.
“I love you” your voice was soft, but your tone was firm which left no room for arguing. Throwing your arms around his neck you pull him down for a kiss catching him by surprise. One of his hands stays gripping the counter behind you as the other holds your bodies close together. His lips were quick to match the rhythm of yours, he pulls back your noses touching.
“ I love you too by the way” he breathlessly chuckles.
“I would hope so with a kiss like that Dr. Spengler” you tease.
“I quite enjoy when you call me doctor” his grip tightened on your waist.
“Okay lovers no making little science babies in the kitchen” Peter interrupts before Egon has the chance to kiss you again.
“I’ll just take Dr. Spengler home then Venkman. We’ll see you tomorrow darlings” you grab Egon’s hand dragging him out the station. “Also whoever puts the groceries away for me gets a home cooked meal of their choice” you shout back into the station before shutting the door. Egon had a goofy grin on his face as you dragged him through the busy sidewalk.
A one-shot in which Reader tends to a badly-injured Egon Spengler in the firehouse during a blizzard lockdown.
General info:
Female reader insert, Hurt/comfort, Egon Spengler whump, friends to lovers, angst with a happy ending
~4.0k word count
Content Warnings:
Blood, description of injuries (he'll be fine, I swear)
The world is frozen over.
The city is in complete lockdown as the blizzard rages outside, the worst storm since the ten-day ice freeze of 1931. It was quite sudden, with the city only getting three hours of notice as the eye of the storm approached from the Atlantic. There was quite a frantic scramble outside as people scurried around to secure spots, with sirens and car horns and chatter echoing through the city. But, the only noises coming from outside now are the deafening howls of the blizzard. Emergency services will be completely unavailable for the next twelve hours until the worst of the storm passes, and rolling blackouts are expected throughout the city’s power grid.
Egon sits cozy in his lab, where the sounds of the storm are only a faint whisper. He has the entirety of the firehouse to himself, a rare luxury that he’s eagerly enjoying. It isn’t that he dislikes his coworkers—far from it, he’s quite fond of everyone—but, for the most part, solitude is his preferred state. He doesn’t have to worry about entertaining anyone, doesn’t have to worry about carefully treading around delicate social customs that he so-often blunders through.
He hears footsteps descending towards the lab and he's immediately annoyed. He was looking forward to his night of solitude and now that was ruined.
“Egon?” a voice calls out. “Are you down here?”
Oh. It's you.
Immediately his annoyance fades, replaced by a nervous excitement that bubbles in his chest. “Yes. I'm down here.”
You trot down into the lab, fresh-eyed and brightly awake, despite the late hour. He can't help but smile a bit at the sight of you, so charming and lovely with a blanket tossed around your shoulders, your arms full of old, tattered textbooks and notebooks. “I didn't know there was a lockdown,” you say sheepishly. “I was napping upstairs with my walkman and I guess I missed all the storm alerts. Is it alright if I work down here for a bit? I hate the idea of being alone upstairs during the storm. It's spooky, you know? All that wind rattling the windows. I know you were probably wanting to be alone, and that you don't really like people just barging in here, and you probably stayed so you'd be alone, but…”
You trail off, and he sees the nervousness on your face, the fear that he'll reject your presence like he’s done countless times with other people. But, he's never kicked you out. Never you. Still though, you're hesitant. “You're always a guest I look forward to having. I want you to make yourself comfortable and stay as long as you'd like.”
You smile, and he sees your nervousness relax. “You know, I'm glad it's you I'm here with. I really like spending time with you.”
His heart flutters in his chest and he can't help but preen. “Likewise,” he says simply, hoping the heat burning in his face isn't too noticeable.
You settle in nicely at one of his spare desks and get to work. He returns to his own tasks, but can’t help but occasionally glance at you. You're sitting at the edge of your seat, lightly bouncing your knee and deeply concentrating on your work, silently mouthing words under your breath as you pore over the ancient texts. Brittle pages and old books are scattered around, with one heavy textbook even open in your lap as you scribble in a notebook, jotting down the spiritual intonations of civilizations long dead. He loves you. You’re radiant and splendid and wonderful and delightful and he loves you. He's loved you for quite some time.
You catch his eye and for a split moment he's absolutely mortified that you caught him staring. But you just smile warmly at him, melting the icy pit formed in his chest, and he can't help but give you a half smile in return. You put your pen down and turn to face him. "What are you working on?"
"I'm resetting the trap I set next to the sweets drawer and changing out the bait."
"Did you finally catch that rat?"
"No. I caught Venkman."
You scoff and shake your head a bit in disbelief.
"I blame myself a bit. In hindsight, I should not use one of his favorite treats as bait. I apologized and offered to buy him lunch tomorrow. Overall, however, he was a very good sport about it.”
You cock an eyebrow, and there's a glint of mischief in your eyes that is so endearing to him. "Peter reached his grubby Peter fingers into a trap and expected not to be…trapped?"
He nods.
“What happened next?”
"Ray took him to get it stitched up," he says, raising his coffee mug to his lips.
"Really? The veterinarian was open that late?"
He snorts into his coffee, spilling it down his chin, and you laugh. He catches your eye and can't help but smile as he wipes his mouth on the back of his lab coat sleeve. Your laughter is in no way derisive and adds a lovely glow to your face, and it's a delightful sight for him to take in. Then, he notices it again, like he's done countless times before: there’s a melancholy about you.
Beneath the sweetness of your smile, the brightness that flashes in your eyes when you laugh, he always catches a fleeting glimpse of something. Something he can never quite place, something he can never string into coherent words. He’s barely able to notice it before it fades away from sight, disappears beneath the depths in your eyes. He can’t see it anymore, but he knows it’s there. It's always been there, since the day he met you. He often imagines himself wrestling it to the surface, grappling it until he's able to free you from its grip entirely.
He shakes his head a bit. A stupid thought. He's almost embarrassed at the absurdity of it.
The lab falls back into silence. He returns to his tasks, and you return to yours.
“Egon?”
The sound of his name in your voice is so lovely and sweet, it almost sends shivers down his spine. “Yes?”
“If it's not too much of an inconvenience, could I borrow your copy of Tobin’s Spiritual Guide?”
“Of course. It's no inconvenience at all.” He makes his way over to the huge bookcase that lines the entirety of the walls on both sides of the old fireplace and slides the ladder over to the proper section. He climbs a few feet up to the shelf labeled “Spiritual Entities, Cryptids, and Other Beasts” and starts scanning through the titles of the books when the rung of the ladder he’s standing on snaps beneath him.
A jolt of panic shoots down his spine as he tries and fails to find footing; the sharp metal of the broken rung tears deeply through the side of his thigh as he falls and he hits the ground with a harsh “Oomph!” The broken ladder clatters next to him on the ground, dripping and spattering blood off its broken rung. He gasps. “Shit!” he hisses under his breath. His hands grasp his thigh and hot blood spills between his fingers, soaking through his pants and pooling onto the floor. The pain hits him all at once, tearing the breath from his lungs—a stabbing, searing, sickening pain that splinters viscerally through his entire leg. He cries out a bit at the fresh waves of pain that course through him like venom with each heartbeat that sends blood gushing between his fingers. The back of his head bumps the ground and he squeezes his eyes shut, his breathing grows rapid and shallow as the room spins around him. He's light-headed. He's dizzy. He's nauseous. He's going to pass out—
“Egon, move your hands.”
Your voice is surprisingly smooth and calm next to him, and it tethers him back from complete panic. You’re kneeling next to him, the large first-aid kit open on the ground next to you. He complies and you slip a tourniquet under his leg. He groans and grits his teeth, unable to suppress the whine that escapes his lips as you tighten the tourniquet around his thigh as much as you can.
“Sorry, sorry,” you sputter. He sees the split moment of panic on your face when you feel his blood on your hands, hot and viscous, wrong and horrifying, but you quickly reel it back. The bleeding almost instantly slows down to an ooze, but it aches terribly.
“Don't cover it up yet,” he says quickly, seeing the pads of gauze in your hand. He props himself up on his elbows, trying to will his heart to stop beating so rapidly. “I need to see how bad it is.” You wordlessly hand him the scissors from the first-aid kit and he deftly cuts off his bloodied pant leg just below the tourniquet. He hears you gasp and he needs to suppress his own as he sees the extent of it. The deep wound flays him nearly to the bone on the outside of his thigh, extending more than a foot long. “Shit.” He lays his head back on the ground, nervousness coiling around his throat. It's bad. It's undoubtedly very, very bad. And it fucking hurts.
Your voice is quiet when you're able to finally summon it. “What do you say we do?”
“It needs to be cauterized.”
“Isn't cautery outdated? Shouldn't we just keep the tourniquet and wrap it up?”
“Emergency services will be unavailable for at least ten hours, and the tourniquet will have me septic in less than six hours, but I'll bleed to death without it. Dressing alone won't adequately stop the bleeding, stitches are too shallow.”
“Alright. I trust your judgment. What am I supposed to use for the cautery tool?
“I have a battery-operated welding blade in the drawer at the welding table.”
You wince and swallow, hard, looking down at your hands covered in his blood, already beginning to dry and crack on your palms. “Okay, okay. I'm gonna wash my hands real quick and come back. Then just tell me what to do from there.”
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“ ‘Sterile non-stick gauze. Lidocaine 5% mucoadhesive wet dressing. Sterile sodium chloride saline 0.9% solution. Isopropyl alcohol 99%,’ ” you mutter under your breath, reading the labels of the various tools you pull out of the first-aid kit. “My reluctance kind of comes from the fact that I…really, really like you,” you say as you scrub your hands down with rubbing alcohol. “If you were Venkman then I’d be delighted at the chance to stick a blade in your leg.” You set the bottle of alcohol on the floor. “Okay, just running this through real quick one last time: first I rinse with saline, then I do the cautery, then I put the wet dressing, then the dry dressing.”
He nods.
You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “Okay.” You slowly exhale. “Okay. Step one: saline rinse.” You crack open the bottle and hold it over his leg. “Are you ready?”
He nods, a knot forming in his stomach.
“Okay.”
He involuntarily sucks in a sharp breath and squeezes his eyes shut as an icy chill washes over his leg, immediately followed by a fiery sting that courses through his leg like venom. It's bitingly cold and freezes him to the bone, but it also burns so, so badly. He grits his teeth but a slight groan still escapes his lips, followed by a strangled whine. He's immediately ashamed and clenches his jaw so much that it aches, focusing all of his energy on staying quiet. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest, sweat forming on his brow.
“Sorry, sorry. Okay, that's done.”
He sharply exhales the breath he didn't know he was holding in and he struggles to pull enough air into his burning lungs with shallow, rapid panting.
“Hey, Egon?” Your hand slips into his and his heart flutters in his chest. “Hey, you're doing good. You're going to be alright.” Your voice is so soothing that he wants to believe you. His eyes are still shut, but he nods.
“Next is this.” You pour rubbing alcohol all over the welding blade in an attempt to disinfect it. The harsh, acrid fumes sting the inside of his nose and burn the back of his throat as it splashes on the ground next to him. “This is insane. This is absolutely insane,” you mutter rapidly under your breath. “I feel like I’m torturing you.”
“You’re not.” He tries to sound confident, but his voice is strained and shaking. “Don’t feel guilty.”
“I’ll do my best. How long should I keep this thing on your leg?”
“A minimum of ten seconds, no matter how badly I react. Anything less would not adequately stop the bleeding.”
“No matter how badly you react,” you repeat under your breath. “Fuck, dude…” You shut your eyes and for a moment you look like you're about to cry, but you manage to force it back down and open your eyes to reveal a frightened, brittle resolve. You switch on the welder and the little old machine sputters to life. He hears the crackling of the heating element and a sickening shiver runs through him, settling heavily in his stomach as a nauseating dread. The dark gray blade glows a faint red and yellow with the heat burning through it. “It’ll be over soon. Just ten seconds.” You sigh, and he sees your brow furrow as you steel your nerves, forcing yourself into a state of strained calmness. “Are you ready?”
No. He's terrified. He's in pain. His composure is failing and he doesn't want you to see him completely fall apart. “Yes.”
“Okay.” You hold up the makeshift cautery blade and take aim, putting your other hand and knee on his upper thigh to keep him still. “Now.” You plunge the blade into his leg.
He screams.
His entire body convulses but you keep his leg pinned firmly beneath your knee. The pain is blinding and searing and overwhelming and he screams until his throat seizes and he's desperately choking for air. His vision blanks and he's nearly on the verge of passing out when—
It's over.
You pull the blade away and his entire body goes limp. His head is spinning and his chest burns. Tears run down the sides of his face and he’s gasping and panting between sobs, unable to catch his breath. He cries out again with the icy jolt that shoots up his leg when your shaking hands press the wet compress to the freshly cauterized wound. He tries and fails to steady his breathing, fails to stop openly sobbing as you wrap the dry dressing around his thigh and remove the tourniquet.
He's ashamed that you're seeing him cry. Egon Spengler, a man who prides himself on prioritizing rationality over emotions, is reduced to a sobbing, quivering mess in front of the woman he's in love with, his clothing and the floor beneath him soiled by a sickening mixture of saline and his own blood. His face burns with embarrassment. How pathetic he must look to you, the facade of the level headed scientist shattered. Frustration boils within him and tightens within his chest.
Oh. Your hand grazes the side of his face, and his attention snaps to you. Your touch is warm, gentle, and so, so soothing. You're talking to him. You've been talking to him this whole time, but it's only now that his scrambled mind is able to actually notice it.
“Hey, it's okay. It's okay,” you whisper to him, stroking his sweating, clammy face. “It's over. You're gonna be okay.” Your other hand slips into his and he weakly grasps your hand in return. You continue talking to him for several minutes, gently stroking his face and occasionally squeezing his hand as tears flow down his face. There's sincerity in your gestures of comfort, a deep genuineness that can only be made through love. Still, though, he can't stop crying, but he's no longer self-conscious about doing so in front of you.
Eventually, his breathing begins steadying a bit and his heart stops beating so wildly in his chest. The lidocaine dressing starts taking the edge off the pain, leaving behind a dull, painful ache that throbs through his entire leg. It still hurts terribly, but it is far from overwhelming.
A headache starts to settle heavily behind his eyes. His entire body shivers violently despite the heat burning through him. Nausea curdles in his stomach. He squeezes his eyes shut but it isn't enough; the lights still ache deeply and seem to tunnel through his head.
You gently lift his head and put a damp rag on the back of his neck. He gasps at the chill that shoots down his spine, but the relief it brings is almost instant. His nausea wanes; the painful throbbing of his head begins to dull as you delicately lift his glasses off his face and set them safely aside. You place another damp rag on his forehead and he's grateful that you cover his eyes, completely blocking out the light.
You're tossing the blanket you brought down earlier over him when the lights go out, leaving the two of you in complete darkness. The coffee maker stops gurgling, the heater stops rumbling, and the lab is left in near complete silence, the only noises coming from the raging storm howling faintly outside. “Crap…” You rummage through the first-aid kit for a flashlight. “Egon, I’ll be right back. Try to get some rest.”
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“Egon. Egon.” You gently nudge his shoulder, rousing him from his heavy doze.
He groans and grits his teeth with the dull agony that settled in his leg as he slept, heavy and stiff; his hands instinctively grasp his thigh in a futile attempt to try and relieve some of the pain.
“I know, I'm sorry, but your temperature’s spiking a bit and I need you to take some ibuprofen to try and get it down. I also found a couple Vicodin in Peter's things that I think you'll appreciate.”
He takes the small handful of pills and voraciously downs both water bottles you offer him.
He's bundled up under several blankets, warm and cozy, despite the discomfort of the hard floor beneath him. The fireplace crackles and spits as the only light source in the lab, animating the shadows of the objects it illuminates in its soft, hot glow. “Power's still out. Pipes are frozen,” you say, rising to your feet. His eyes follow you as you toss another hunk of wood into the fireplace, sending a pleasant wave of heat over him. “But we're doing alright.” You glance at him. “You’re starting to look a bit better.”
“Where did you find wood for the fireplace?” he asks.
“I can't tell you. Also, Peter's nightstand is now missing.”
He snickers. The pain in his leg has already started lifting, replaced by a faint, floaty feeling. “Of all the places to grievously injure myself, next to the fireplace is a lucky break.”
You look at him intently, and there isn't a hint of humor on your face.
“Sorry,” he says just a bit too quickly, his face practically steaming with embarrassment. He clears his throat and scrambles a bit for a change of topic. “I really admire you—especially in the way you handle yourself in an emergency. I admire a lot of things about you.”
You scoff. “I see the Vicodin is kicking in.”
“If anything, I think my mental faculties are more perspicuous with the hydrocodone. The distraction of the pain is much less pronounced.” He slowly pulls himself into a sitting position, wincing a bit, but the pain is just a fraction of what it was, throbbing dully deep in his leg. “Though, I must say that our recent experiences together have also given me a greater sentiment of closeness to you. I feel safe with you. I’m sure part of this mentality is just the narcotic inhibiting my usual reticence, but for the most part, I believe it’s authentic.”
“Egon.”
You kneel next to him, and he has trouble seeing your face in the harsh shadows cast by the crackling fireplace. One of his old coats is draped around your shoulders and it’s far too large on you, which he finds so, so endearing. A burst of affection washes over him, bubbles in his chest and brings warmth to his face. The urge to kiss you is overwhelming, almost primal. He catches your eye and leans forward.
You read his intentions and pull back. You gently place your hand on his chest, nudging him back a bit. “Look, I'm not sur--”
“Please, I want to kiss you.”
“Egon.”
“I love you. I’m in love with you,” he blurts. “I've been in love with you f—”
“Stop! Stop it! Stop talking!” That melancholy about you suddenly rushes to the surface and bursts forth as tears in your eyes and you clench your jaw, bite the inside of your cheek, but the tears flow freely down your face. You sigh, annoyed, and avert your gaze, impatiently wiping your eyes on your sleeve. “Look, Egon, this is not a conversation I'm ready to have right now. I am so fucking overwhelmed as it is, okay? I just…Fuck, don’t do this to me now.”
His heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach and he lies back on the ground. It’s not an outright rejection, far from it. But, it still aches deeply in his chest as you weep next to him, your head bent and your palm on your forehead.
“I'm sorry,” you say quietly, your voice thick with tears. “It’s just, it’s been a really bad night. If I hadn't asked you to grab me that stupid fucking book then none of this would have happened. And I have my own goddamn copy upstairs! I just didn't want to go grab it! And I almost killed you because of that!” You lift your head. “Seeing all that blood, hearing you scream like that…Oh my God, that was so awful. Oh, Egon, I'm so sorry…” You sigh, summoning all your courage for your next words. “I love you. I really do. I love you so much that it sometimes keeps me up at night.” He’s positively euphoric at hearing these words. His heart soars, but your next words send it plummeting back to the bottom of his stomach. “But, Egon, I feel so terrible about it.” A sob hitches in your throat and you struggle to keep your next words steady. “Look at this fucking mess we're in…”
He reaches for your hand. You see him, but don't protest as his fingers intertwine with yours. His other hand slowly reaches up and gently cups the side of your face. You lock eyes with him, and he sees the sorrow aching so deeply within you, your vision blurred by the tears flowing freely down your face.
“I love you,” he says simply, delicately wiping a calloused thumb beneath your eye.
You shake your head. “How could you?”
“How could I not?” he answers earnestly.
You crack a small smile. You press a kiss to the palm of his hand and hold it against your face, delighting in the warmth of his touch. He's absolutely exhilarated at this, and he smiles so brightly at you that you can't help but smile back, despite the fresh tears spilling from your eyes. He sees it now, the reason behind the melancholy about you:
You love him.
You love him so deeply that it burns through the core of your very being. That love for him that would flash in your eyes every time you smiled at him, everytime the brightness of your laugh lit up your face, has now rushed to the surface and painfully burst forth as tears running down your face.
You bend down and plant a soft kiss on his forehead, still holding his hand in yours as you lie down next to him in front of the fireplace.
