Disclaimer: See initial chapter.
A/N: Fluffy romance.
By the time that Ray loses track of how often Peter's visited him at around two in the morning; he's grown old and arthritic. Ray's managed to ward off the well-meant attempts made by his friends, over the intervening years, to set him up with someone with cleverly made up excuses (some which had come from Peter) and faked illnesses.
The time spent with Peter's ghost in the twilight hours of the morning just before dawn, have become more about companionship than sex. Peter listens better as a ghost, offers support and advice. He still teases Ray relentlessly, but Ray wouldn't have him any other way. It's a comfort, having Peter in the between hours of his life with the living, battling the spirits of the dead.
Peter, as a ghost, hasn't aged any. Ray's got whiskers growing out of his ears, his hearing's shot, his forehead is one massive wrinkle, and his fingers are gnarled and hard to move. His knees don't quite unbend anymore, and his back's almost perpetually hunched. He's tired and worn, and cold.
They mostly talk now; Ray falls asleep spooned up in Peter, wakes the next morning with an ache marrow deep, misses Peter so much that it hurts. Though he knows the ghost will be back the next night, he wishes that Peter wasn't bound to a specific time and space.
Around the seven thousandth time that it happens, Ray's awake, waiting for Peter. There's an inexplicable sadness in Peter's eyes, but they talk, fool around some, and then Ray falls asleep in Peter's arms.
He doesn't feel the ghostly lips on his forehead, and is unaware of Peter's silent vigil over him – the murmured prayers the ghost utters over him.
When he wakes, Ray feels lighter. His ever present arthritis is gone, and he looks over to the other side of the bed that he's been sharing with the ghost of Peter Venkman, expecting for the familiar ache to settle in his heart when he sees that the ghost has vanished.
Instead of being greeted by emptiness, there's Peter, sprawled out on his side, a wide grin on his face. He pulls Ray close and kisses him. It's an eternity before they part, and no time at all. Ray isn't breathless, as a matter of fact, he isn't breathing at all. It takes a while for it to hit him, what's happened, and when it does, he finds that he isn't sad at all.
"Took you long enough," Peter says, but there's no malice behind his words.
Ray laughs. For the first time in over two decades, he feels alive, and the funny thing is that he's dead.
"We've got an eternity to waste," Peter says, taking his hand, and Ray laughs.
"I'm ready."
Ray glances at their reflection in the bedroom mirror – gone are the wrinkles; the dark, purple age spots; the gnarled hands – he's young again. He squeezes Peter's hand, and they fly away into that puddle of mist Peter told him about a lifetime ago.