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Everything you Want	By : Dommi Category: +M through R > Real Ghostbusters Views: 2245 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Real Ghostbusters, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Everything you Want
- 1
Everything You Want
Series: The Real Ghostbusters
Rating: Hard R
Okay, so there was a thread on The RGBS ML that got me thinking. Thinking about just how messy I can make the relationships between these four men. I’d have added Janine just for kicks, but I was afraid my head would explode. Story unabashedly inspired by the song “Everything You Want” by Vertical Horizon; the lyrics at the beginning and the end are from it, in fact. I also felt like exercising my second person POV skills, and I chose Ray for the exercise. Ray doesn't get enough ass in fanfic, I've decided so yay! The only pairing NOT in this is Ray/Winston, because I find that R/W leaves me...cold. Some are sexual, some aren't-the sex that's here isn't really explicit so...yeah. Angst and unrequited stuff abound. Feedback, of course, is always welcome to PapuruStar@aol.com

+You’re waiting for someone to put you together…you’re waiting for someone to push you away…+

It’s always hard being the one who sees everything, you think. It’s not the worst role, but it’s not the easiest. And you all have your roles, don’t you?

You were pondering this very fact one morning, as the sun was coming up over the skyline. Still being fall, the morning air was cool, not quite cold. The leaves were beginning to change in the parks. And Peter miraculously joined you on the roof to watch the sunrise.

That morning was the first time you saw Peter. You saw Peter and how he was everything you wanted. He was all verdant flame eyes and creamy warm skin and you stared because, really, what else can you do when someone’s that beautiful, that desirable?

And he looked at you and said “Morning. It’s always so quiet in the morning, isn’t it?” And he smiled. “Too quiet for my liking.” And he moved to you and kept smiling. “Me, I’ve always liked noise.”

And you saw then how he could read your desire all over you. You never were good at hiding how you felt about anything, and that applied to wanting someone. His smile became something more gentle, almost delicate. He reached out and touched your face and then his mouth was on yours and you were making love on the roof to the sounds of daylight winning one more battle against the darkness.

Come to mention it, you and Peter never made love anywhere else, did you? Perhaps it was because it was always quiet and that way he could have his noise. Perhaps you just liked the outside. Perhaps too many places in the firehouse didn’t have doors that locked properly.

Or it was perhaps that you’d known for months that Winston was desperately in love with Peter. And then you had stolen him, just as surely as you would steal an apple from a grocer or some small bauble from a dime store.

Well, as much as anyone could steal Peter, with his eyes both gentle and sharp as knives. His eyes saw almost as much as yours did.

Peter was also aware of Winston’s intentions towards him. You had a conversation with him one day, when the two of you were sated and smelling of each other and sex.

“Winston’s got tickets to a Knicks game,” you mentioned offhandedly as Peter ran his fingers through your hair. “I think he wants you to go with him.” You wanted to tell him to go spend time with Winston, so that he’d never, ever know that you had taken the love of his life away without so much as a backwards glance.

Peter didn’t even stop to think. “He’d never let me watch the game. Zed gets too occupied trying to make me see him and only him.” He let out a sigh as you nuzzled his neck for a moment. “I don’t think he’d be happy unless I only ever saw him.”

In some of your more romantic and idealistic moments, you thought about what it would be like to wake up to Peter in your bed everyday. You thought about the smell of his hair, the feel of his body, and the taste of his skin bringing you back to life. You thought about being able to get on your knees in front of him by the Containment Unit, licking and sucking and just not caring if anyone else walked in on it. You thought about being able to say “MINE!” with a few gestures and some body language. You wanted to own him with everything you had.

All you ever had were the mornings, when you snuck onto the roof and he was waiting. And he'd walk to you and kiss you and he entwined himself with you.

Most people would assume that, were Peter Venkman to make love to a man, he’d have to pretend it was a woman getting him off. And while you could feel that he was pretending you weren’t yourself, it is no woman he that he imagined.

When he would look up at you, you could feel your hair turn blond and get longer. You sensed your eyes lighten from hazel to blue. You became taller, with a slighter frame and fuller lips.

But when you moaned his name, your voice was rich and deep and in no way effeminate.

Whenever you looked at Egon, whether he was reading on the sofa or checking his meter, you became absolutely appalled by what a shitty copy you turned out to be. Egon, now that is Egon you thought. He was taller than the stratosphere, with the grace of a predatory cat and eyes like fine Arabian sapphires.

You’d seen the look on Peter’s face when he first saw him every morning and you died a little inside because he’d never look at you that way. The only time anyone can look at anything like that is if they have wanted it for so long, that their desire is so embedded into their soul, that they can’t recall life without it. The utter need for the person replaces the marrow and blood in their bones to the point where they can’t move, can’t even exist without the wanting. It is desire in its most painful and pure form, as it’s the desire of that which is completely off-limits, but still within your reach.

And then you realized that you’d never make Peter love you, not in that way. Not even in some way, or even any way. And you followed the guys to Ecto and began with the standard pre-bust rituals.

During that particular bust, you were fascinated by just how much concentration Peter spent on Egon. His eyes drank every move, his ears devoured every word. It was almost as though Spengler was little more than a buffet for Peter’s senses. He, too, longed to use body language and actions to scream that someone belonged to him, but he was so obvious you were amazed the client didn’t pull him aside and accuse him of being selfish and playing favourites.

That wasn’t the most interesting part of the day, however.

The most interesting thing you had quite possibly seen in your life was when Egon was explaining what exactly was going on in the client’s home. You saw Peter examining Egon as if his life depended on it. And then you saw Winston.

He looked at Peter, then at you. And he smiled. And he went back to his surveillance of Peter and Egon.

The shock of Winston knowing about you and Peter was something, all right. It steadied you enough to help Peter take the money shot and trap the ghosts. And of course, Peter thanked you, then struck poses of triumph and went into Venkman the Almighty Hero mode.

“Peter, thy name be Grandstander,” you couldn’t help but remark. “You’re really something else, Venkman.”

Winston’s smile became more brilliant. “Isn’t he, though?” He shook off his pack and went about putting it in Ecto’s backseat. And some slight blue movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention and you turned.

And there was Egon. And his breath was caught, and his eyes were full of violence and passion and flame and need, all of it laid bare for Winston. It wasn't quite as painful to see in his eyes, probably because he was more than aware of the hopelessness of wanting Zeddemore.

And you felt dirty. Sneaky. Mean. Rotten. Traitorous. Like some kind of spite-filled voyeur who’s only consolation was the fact that everyone else was just as lonely and desperate as you were. Revulsion started somewhere deep in the pit of your belly and slowly shuddered up your torso through to your head where it’s all you could do not to scream at the top of your lungs for someone to do themselves the favor and put you out of their misery.

Instead, you said that you’d take care of the traps, even though it was Peter’s turn. And Egon looked at you sharply for a second. When your eyes met his, he looked away quickly. Peter thanked you again, winked, and bounded up the stairs for a nap. And Winston watched him go, the longing to join him blatant on his face.

You made it all the way through to the last two traps before your knees started shaking. If you weren’t a grown man, you’d have cried, screamed, and thrown things. For just yourself, or for all of you, you’d never be able to say with any certainty. The fact remains that you just held onto the Containment for dear life and finished the traps. And as you made your way upstairs, you noticed the person lost in thought in Peter’s office.

And it wasn’t the man himself.

There was only thing that could transpire to force Egon into a silent and solitary vigil: the exhausting combination of desperately wishing for a sin with the original sorrow one can only feel when that sin becomes denied.

As you attempted to figure out a way to get past the office without him noticing your presence, you saw Winston wandering over from Ecto, a thoughtful look on his face. And that earlier feeling you had of wishing to scream intensified, as you knew, you just knew what he was going to talk to Egon about. You prayed with every fiber of your being that you were wrong, but it was too late and the damage was about to be done.

“Egon? You got a minute?”

“Certainly.” He paused. “What…what do you wish to talk about?”

“It’s about Pete.”

Winston was the only one of you that had siblings, so he’d had to share everything his entire life. The thought of sharing Peter was too much. The thought of sharing Peter with Egon was unforgivable. So you could not blame him for this, but at the same time, you wondered at his complete blindness to the situation. His inability to see how Egon was in so much pain and was struggling so hard, it was a miracle he didn’t just crack and fall to pieces right there.

“See, Egon…I…there’s no easy way for me to say this, so I’ll just cut to the chase. Pete is really…important to me. He means…a lot. And I…I need to know.” He took a deep breath, and your actions mirrored his. “You see, I’m pretty sure that I love him.”

Only Winston could confess his true feelings by saying he was “pretty sure” he was in love. And at that particular instant, you were “pretty sure” you hated him for it.

Egon’s already fair skin paled at this and you could hear him choke back a cry. “I…I had noticed that, actually.”

Winston sighed in relief. “Good. So…then…what’s your story?”

Egon choked back another cry. “Uh…I don’t…I am not sure….”

Winston smiled. “Egon. Level with me. I love Peter, but it’s pretty obvious Peter loves you. I don’t want to cause any problems or get in the way if the two of you are going to have something.” The smile faltered for an instant, and you fought the irrational urge to punch it off completely. “I…want him happy, you know. If that’s with you, well….”

That blind son of a bitch. That inconsiderate, insensitive, and horribly blind son of a bitch.

“Ah….” Egon was trying to choose his words carefully, and to not let the anguish show too clearly. “That is…you have no worries, Winston. My feelings for Peter do not run in those directions.”

No worries, Winston. I don’t want Peter.

No worries, as you’re everything I want.

Winston relaxed visibly and his smile was a beacon in the somewhat darkened office. “That’s such a great thing to hear, Egon. I know I said I just wanted Pete to be happy but if you had told me you loved him back…I don’t know what I would have done. Man, I can’t ever thank you enough.” And he grabbed Egon, and he hugged him, and you could feel Egon's hopes just whither and die. Winston smiled again and he headed to the stairs, then turned around. “Chinese good for dinner?”

“Ah, yes. Sounds fine.”

“Know what you want?”

“Ah, no, unfortunately I do not. I will look at the menu in a few minutes.”

“Cool.” And with that, Winston was gone. And you started to walk quietly up the stairs from the basement, trying not to let Egon know you were there.

“Raymond.” The sorrow in his voice as he acknowledged you, how shattered and defeated and just completely lost he sounded would have broken your heart if you hadn’t already given it away.

In all of his pain, and all of his sorrow, he had never been more beautiful than he was at that moment.

And you walked towards him, and all you thought was how if you were Winston, or anyone on Earth you’d want him. You were in love with someone who was in love with him and you still wanted him. You loved Peter more than anything, but you still wanted to take this beautiful, sad creature’s heart, break it, and then mend it with a few words and some gentle caresses.

Winston loved Peter because Peter was flawed and he could care for him and try to make him whole. Peter loved beautiful things and so he loved Egon, because Egon was beautiful.

And while you loved Peter and thought Peter was beautiful despite the flaws, something in Egon still made you desperate to capture him.

And Egon was trembling ever so slightly as you walked over to him, and the trembles became quakes and shivers as you shoved him backwards onto Peter’s desk. And his mouth was very sweet and wet on yours.

And you knew his secret. And now he knew one of yours.

And you wondered if this was Egon’s way of keeping your damn mouth shut. And you didn’t care. You knew you wouldn’t forget. You had seen the way he prayed for Winston. You had seen how he had imagined spending his nights with him. And you had prayed and imagined Peter in the same way.

See everything, forget nothing. And you knew, once and finally, just how fucking hopeless this was. How hopeless and pathetic you all were. And part of you wanted to weep for the four of you.

The rest of you was otherwise occupied.

You had spent the better part of a few months being Egon. So you knew the type of gasp he would make when you would stroke him through his uniform. You knew how he would arch his neck when you would suck on it and press little bites here or there. You knew the way he would lift himself up to allow you to slip the jumpsuit down easier, and how he would quickly return the favor for you. You knew what the sweat would taste like as it pooled on his collarbone and gathered on his brow.

You knew exactly how he would groan as you slid your hardness into him and how in his mind it honestly didn’t matter to him that you weren’t Winston, not at that moment, not as long as you didn’t stop, because you had spent every morning groaning like that. And you knew how he’d close his eyes and beg for it, just a bit harder, a bit faster now yes that’s it like that oh please more please oh God….

And you knew how his tears wouldn’t fall until he came.

+There’s always another wound to discover, there’s always something more you wish he’d say.+
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Everything you Want