Work Text:
You never thought of Egon Spengler as the most affectionate person.
His fellow ghostbusters weren’t shy when it came to affection. Ray loves throwing an arm around his friends, Winston’s spin hugs capped off the toughest busts, and even cranky Peter could always spare a comforting pat on the arm or a noogie. Meanwhile, Egon tended towards deadpan delivery, cutting insults, and pinching the bridge of his nose. It was always verbal. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time he showed affection through touch.
Oddly, that revelation didn’t bother you. You weren’t exactly the most touchy of people, at least not without asking first. You never expected him to warm up to you when you became his and Dr. Stantz’s lab assistant shortly after the Manhattan Crossrip of 1984. New York had just discovered ghosts were real and suddenly every scientific magazine and news outlet called with questions about what ghosts were , how they appeared, et cetera. You were hired to connect and collect ghost findings. You three had a lot of work to do, not much time for hugs or pats or what have you.
But today was the kind of day where it would’ve been really nice to be in another person’s arms. You propped your weary head up on one hand, staring at the notes in your other hand. Normally you’d be concerned at the pages wrinkling due to the embarrassing amount of crying you’d done right above them. Normally , that is. For the first time in a very long time, you had cried for so long that you came up dry, your body still quivering and your chest still spasming with sobs.
You struggled to keep your eyes on your work. How could you? The interviewer who had just hung up abruptly on you had a point: you weren’t a good speaker and you bored the people in your life. That’s why you were here, working with the loser scientists who got fired from their tenured university jobs and pursued a nutjob hobby like ghost hunting. No one else would take you.
You didn’t agree that the guys were losers. Far from it, they were heroes, and the interviewer had a clear bias that came from some long standing hurt. You , on the other hand, had none of their good qualities. You only got this job because you happened to contribute to an influential psychological study a few years ago and Dr. Stantz recognized your name when you brought in your resume. Nepotism was your strength. And you were an impostor sitting in a refurbished firehouse, crying over some stupid notes about Slimer’s documented abilities as a Class V FRV.
You pushed yourself out of your desk chair and started tidying up, trying to distract yourself from the burning of your cheeks and a rapidly approaching headache from all that crying. Inside Egon Spengler’s desk drawer you could find any number of teeth-rotting treats, including Crunch bars and Twinkies.
Your crying abruptly stopped at the sight of an empty snack drawer.
A few moments later, you raced down the stairs with your jacket and wallet.
“You okay, (y/n)?”
Winston stopped you at the bottom of the stairs. You stopped for a moment and looked at him in a silent plea to keep this between the two of you. He glanced over your shoulder and nodded.
“Not a word, I got you. Are you heading out for the day?”
“No,” you replied hoarsely, “I’ll be back later. We’re out of snacks in the lab. I can grab you something too if you’d like.”
“You worry about you right now,” he whispered, giving you a gentle smile that almost made you start up crying again. At a conversational volume, he added, “And grab a flat of water while you’re there, if you can, or a couple of bottles. The sink’s been spitting up gunk. I’ll reimburse you when you get back, so don’t worry about the cost.”
You looked back at him before leaving, wondering why he added that, but you spotted Peter and Ray coming up from the basement and thanked him silently for the cover. You didn’t bother to close the door quietly on your way out.
A while later, you returned with a paper bag filled up with sweets and some water bottles—you figured you should probably rehydrate after all those tears. When you opened the door to the firehouse, you saw Egon and Winston sitting at Janine’s desk in the clients’ chairs. You couldn’t quite hear what they were saying, but Winston seemed to be doing most of the talking, with an occasional interjection from Egon.
“…not something you can just ignore,” you heard Winston finish his sentence.
“I don’t want to pry, it’s probably private. Whatever happened, I don’t think I’d have anything useful to offer, nor do I think they’d want to discuss whatever upset them. I know that’s how it is for me when a problem’s still fresh.”
“You talk about your problems with Ray.”
“Rarely. And only when he’s not hopped up on caffeine. He’s indistinguishable from Slimer when he’s had his coffee.”
“That’s true, and you know, I—“ Winston paused when he saw you walk in. “Hey, welcome back! Did your break help you refocus?”
“Yeah,” you nodded, hoping that your face had finally gone back to normal. “It helped. Got some more snacks for the lab. They had a sale on Twinkies, but I think that means they’re about to expire.” You ended your rambling by giving a little shrug.
“Excellent, thank you,” Egon spoke up. You bobbed your head again and headed up the stairs to the lab. Before you got all the way up, he called your name and, without thinking, you turned back to him, nearly losing a precariously positioned Crunch bar in the process. “I’ll be up there in a few minutes, I’m curious about your interview from this morning, if you wouldn’t mind sharing.”
Your stomach dropped. You did your best to keep your expression neutral as you said, “I don’t mind. I’m just gonna put these away.”
In the lab, you tore open the drawer and turned the bag upside down, thankful for the loud noise of the sweets tumbling out as you started sobbing again. You grabbed a water from the drawer and opened it a bit too quickly, spilling a few drops on the lab bench. You cursed as you wiped it up with your sleeve and drank from the bottle. If you were going to cry again, might as well have the tears to do it.
“Am I intruding?”
You whipped around but relaxed when you saw who’d spoken. Egon stood on the top stair as you sat up straight and insisted, “No no, you’re fine. Just catching my breath.”
He came in, though you noticed he walked more slowly than he usually did up here. “I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but I wanted to ask you something. Were you crying just now?”
“Did Winston tell on me?”
“I asked him where you were, since you weren’t in your usual spot at this time of day. He mentioned you were upset, but not that you’d been crying, and that you’d gone out to clear your head. I did hear you sniffling just now when I came up.”
You snorted and wiped an eye. “You heard that?”
“Well, I heard a noise and hadn’t registered what it was, but judging by your behavior since you came in a few minutes ago, you’re more disregulated than normal. I don’t typically scare you like that.”
“Actually, Spengler, you do ,” you retorted half-heartedly. “I’ve considered buying you a little cat bell for your lab coat so you stop jumpscaring us.”
“I’ll pass,” he smirked, and you grinned slightly. You stared at your water as you kept drinking.
You didn’t see him move, but you sensed Egon move to the stool next to your chair. It didn’t occur to you until you stopped sipping that you’d accidentally taken his seat and he had to take yours in exchange. “Oh shit, sorry,” you panicked and got up. “You can have this back. I know you like this chair, my stool’s a bit lopsided and that drives you nuts.”
“Are you avoiding what I mentioned earlier because you feel uncomfortable, or was that accidental?”
You looked up at him, your eyes fixating on the reflections in his glasses. “Straight to the point. Normally, I appreciate that about you.”
He actually looked nervous at that comment. “I think I’ve made you uncomfortable. I apologize. You don’t need to tell me what happened, but am I correct in assuming your crying and the interview are connected? Or is something else the cause?”
“Yeah, E,” you sighed and sniffled. “You’re right. You usually are. The things that asshole said about me, about you guys—he’s lucky it was a phone interview or you’d be bailing me out of jail right now. I’m really upset and I didn’t want to make you guys worry. I don’t want to be seen as weak. I don’t like crying over stupid shit.”
You heard the scrape of a stool as Egon moved a bit closer. “Why is it a bad thing for us to worry about you?”
“Because I’m supposed to be able to handle myself when you guys are out.”
“Who said that?”
He looked confused, as if he didn’t just drop a very serious question regarding your self-esteem. You let out a sigh that came out like a laugh. His confusion became even more apparent. You explained, “No one said it, but I still feel it deep down. I feel worthless.”
You didn’t say anything further. You had no words to add. Egon didn’t either, for a long moment.
He turned his whole body to face you. “Would you like a hug?”
You blinked in surprise. “Now I know this is serious. You never offer hugs. Don’t feel like you have to make me feel better, Egon, I’ll be fine. I’m just overreacting.”
“I disagree with your assessment of your emotions, but I understand you trying to accommodate me. I wouldn’t be offering if I wasn't ready for you to say ‘yes.’ My offer still stands.”
Tears clouded your vision again. You blinked rapidly to clear it up and nodded, scooting close enough for Egon to wrap his arms around you. For a moment, you were afraid you’d melt in his arms—his hands were cold, but his chest was warm, and he seemed to dwarf you. Hugging Egon was like wrapping yourself in a weighted blanket; you felt safe and secure in a way that no hug had in years. You wept into his lab coat and wrapped your arms around him. He rubbed a hand against your upper back, not saying anything as you cried, but you discovered after a while that his breathing had slowed. Soon enough, you matched your breathing pattern to his, and your crying petered out, but this time you felt warm and relieved, not cold and angry.
“Is this still okay?” you asked him, face buried in his coat. You felt him huff with laughter against you and you pulled back. “That’s my good side, Egon,” you fake gasped. “Careful.”
“Yes, it’s still okay. I offered because I figured you could benefit from some human contact, but now I’m less inclined to let go. This doesn’t usually happen. Usually I know when I’m done but I’m not yet.”
“You don’t like hugs.” It was a fact you’d never outright admitted but it felt appropriate.
“I tolerate them. But I have to admit, I’m enjoying this one. Not to overstep any boundaries but I don’t think I’m going anywhere.”
You smiled so big at this and hugged him firmly. “Me either. But you can still tap out if you need to.”
“Not yet. Do you?”
“Not yet,” you echoed him.
The two of you sat there, still holding each other. Egon chuckled after a minute? Two minutes? An hour? You had no idea, but it filled your body with warmth and you laughed too, though you weren’t sure why.
“This is the weirdest game of chicken I’ve ever played.”
That made you laugh properly, and you pulled back a bit to look up at him. “Well, I’m not losing to you.”
“You just did. You moved away.”
“Damnit!” He grinned smugly at you as you scoffed. “That’s so not fair! I didn’t know we were playing a game. I thought you actually cared about my emotional well-being.”
“Both can be true. Are you feeling any better?”
You stared at him.
“If you’re trying to communicate telepathically, I’m not hearing anything.”
“Hey Egon?”
He looked down over the top of his glasses at you. “Hmm?”
“Does this mean anything? Forgive me for being dense, but you don’t go out of your way to do this stuff for just anyone. This feels special. But I don’t want to read into it if you’re just expressing platonic affection. I guess my question is why you did this.”
He looked down at his lap for a moment. “You know, I was wondering the same thing about you.” He brought his eyes up to yours. “I care about you deeply. But I also don’t want to read into whatever you feel about me, if anything. Do you…”
“I love you,” you answered his question before it left his mouth. “I’m in love with you. Do you love me too?”
He nodded quickly. “I do, a lot more than I expected.” He moved away from you. “Sorry.”
“Wait, what? Why are you sorry? You just made me incredibly happy, and you’re apologizing?!”
“Look. I feel bad for saying this, but I think I just experienced overstimulation. Too many textures, too many sounds came in. I promise it’s not your fault, I’m sorry for being abrupt—“
“Egon.” He didn’t look at you, but you could tell he was listening. “I get it. You can’t control your brain’s reaction to stimuli. It’s unconscious. I’m not mad at you.” He nodded at your scientific rationale. “Plus, this whole thing seems like it’s new for you.”
“Not completely. I’m not new to romance. I just didn’t think you’d reciprocate. And now I’m scared you’ll think I’m cold for not initiating physical contact. I can’t always do that and I don’t want to disappoint you. I don’t want to be an unfulfilling partner.”
“Don’t feel guilty for not expressing your love like I do, or like the guys do. We can have different love languages and still make it work. I’m willing to try.” You reached into the snack drawer and held out a Twinkie. “I trust that you love me. And I know you’d be caring enough to give affection if I asked, but you’d be clear if you couldn’t and why.”
“I don’t think I’m very easy to love,” he said softly.
You shook the Twinkie package. The sound of plastic drew his attention. “Neither am I. But I’ll take the chance. Maybe we can compromise and figure out boundaries together. For now, we should eat something.”
You opened the packaging and split the Twinkie somewhat unevenly, handing the bigger half to Egon. He took it from you, his fingers brushing yours. The two of you ate your halves quietly as the sun moved across the sky. And that quiet moment would be the first among many of you two.
Egon wasn’t the most affectionate person. But when he would wordlessly hand you your favorite candy during briefings or breaks, or when he’d listen intently when you infodumped about an obscure bit of ghostly folklore, you knew that he loved you.