Egon/Peter, no warnings
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"Surely this is a sign of some hitherto unknown apocalyptic event that has escaped even the notice of Tobin's database." Egon observed dryly from the doorway of the kitchen.
Peter turned away from the stove, scowling at Egon. "Well if this is the reaction I'm gonna get every time I get up before noon, I'm just gonna stop trying." He sniffed, returning his attention to the food sizzling away in various pans on the old gas stove.
"Thirty-three." Egon replied succinctly, coming forward to stand at the counter beside Peter.
"Excuse me?" The brunet turned again, raising an eyebrow in confusion at his lover's non sequitur.
"Thirty-three," Egon repeated, "Is the percentage of mornings you have risen before 11 A.M., unprompted, when there is no work to be done. At least, since we have begun sharing living quarters."
"Seriously, Spengs? You've been counting? That's kinda weird, even for you." A small, amused smile tugged at the corners of Peter's mouth, despite his words.
"It is usually such an unexpected occurrence that I must take note. Today, for example," The physicist glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall, even though he had their work schedule memorized, "We have no busts, no other business-related obligations, and I'm quite certain you were crowing yesterday about having finally caught up on your paperwork. I find myself unable to come up with a reason for your early rising."
"Can't a guy just make his friends breakfast without being subjected to the Inquisition? Seriously, you don't have to question every nice thing I do." The words were spoken with an airy sort of humor, but they made Egon frown.
He leaned over, placing a hand on Peter's arm and stilling the other man as he reached for his spatula. "It wasn't my intent to upset you." He stated seriously, "I only wondered what the occasion was. You do so rarely grace us with your… what did you entitle them? Famous Venkman chocolate pancakes?"
Peter grinned, at last grabbing the spatula and applying it to the food in question. "Venkman's Famous Double Chocolate Chip Pancakes," He sobered slightly then, and shrugged, "Anyway, I wouldn't really call it rising early… more like, going to bed really, really late."
Egon's eyebrows rapidly climbed his forehead. "I remember you coming to bed last night. Didn't you sleep?"
Peter shrugged again. "Here and there, I guess. Kinda gave up after a while though. Haven't exactly been getting a lot of satisfaction out of sleep lately." He admitted.
The kitchen was silent but for the bacon sizzling away on the stove. Egon studied his partner closely in the filmy dawn light, taking in the smudges of darkness beneath his eyes and the slight pallor of his skin. "You've been having nightmares again." He concluded with distaste.
"Ah, c'mon, Egon, not nightmares, just… less than happy dreams." Peter slid the bacon out of the pan and onto some paper towels to blot off the grease.
"Peter, you promised you would tell me…"
"I promised I would tell you if it was a problem. And I will. But one sleepless night does not a problem make."
Egon huffed. "Perhaps not, but those bags beneath your eyes speak of more than one sleepless night."
The brunet scowled and muttered something that sounded like a disparaging comment towards Egon's observational skills, but the taller man let it slide. Instead, he leaned across Peter and turned the stove off before moving any remaining food from the heat source. "Come, Dr. Venkman," He said authoritatively, gripping Peter by the wrist and turning him towards the door.
"Hey- what about…" Peter gestured towards the pancakes and bacon left sitting on various countertops.
"Breakfast will still be there when Winston and Ray wake. Otherwise, it will prove an indulgent treat for Slimer."
"Great. All my hard work, swallowed down by a floating, green garbage disposal." Peter muttered, "Where exactly do you think we're going, Egon? Believe it or not, I'm not actually interested in sleep right now."
"We are not going to sleep. We are simply going to bed. I will see if I can give your mind something to dwell on that has little to do with whatever has been troubling your dreams." Egon replied with great seriousness.
Peter could only grin in response. "Oh yeah?"
"Indeed. And if you should happen to fall asleep afterward…" Egon paused and looked over at Peter, squeezing his wrist minutely, "Well, I shall endeavor not to hold it against you."
"You're a real peach, Egon," Peter snorted, but leaned over and pecked the man on the cheek nonetheless, "Thanks."
"You are most welcome, Peter."