You stared at the pink tinged shaving cream still glistening on your fingers.

You rubbed the cream around, allowing it to dissolve into your skin. You knew you should have washed it off. Dr. Spengler would be very cross if he found out.

But you began think to yourself if that was really such a bad thing?

A tingle of anticipation was beginning to spread through your body.

You glanced around the room. He had left you with an impossible list of expectations to meet in so few hours. The dictation alone would take half the afternoon!

"Jerk," you muttered under your breath, feeling a surge of rebellion blooming.

The first hour was spent calibrating the lab equipment. You were thorough (passive-aggressively thorough in fact) and left your written results neatly stacked by his computer...before doubling back a second later and tipping the pile across his keyboard. He never said they had to be neat, just complete.

Smirking, you turned your attention to the scattered papers on the floor. He had never once left papers in such a state. How these wound up on the floor in such disarray was a mystery to you, but you got down on the ground and began to sort through them.

You didn't even notice the drop of slime on the ground as your knee slid right through it.

Peter walked in an hour later carrying the cot you had asked him to bring up. He chucked it down unceremoniously then stopped dead at the sight of you.

You were working in your camisole, having shed your sweater as you'd worked up quite the sweat. Your hair was bunched up in a messy ponytail, tendrils sticking out in chaotic disarray.

You were laying on your stomach, stretching your arms under a cabinet to retrieve a page, grumbling frustratedly.

He then took in the pile of slime covered equipment in the sink, the scattered papers...

Looking down, he saw the tiny splotches of pink slime leading in a trail to the back rooms.

Wordlessly he followed the path to the bathroom where he saw the discarded and still damp clothes Egon had left in a pile on the floor the night before, the shower curtain half off its hooks. There was a large handprint of slime on the shower wall.

Peter came back into the lab and knelt down beside you as you shuffled through your stack of papers, breathing heavily.

"Damn it...where is it?" you muttered, bending down to look under a different filing cabinet.

He stretched his body all the way out on the floor, propping himself up on his elbow.

"Hey, kitten?"

"Mmm hmm?" you muttered distractedly.

"Whatcha doin' down here?"

"What does it look like, Peter? Dr. Spengler practically ordered me to get these papers sorted out by the time he gets back from whatever it is he's doing that's so important! I've got over a hundred left to organize, scan, and file, then I've got three copies of dictation to type before seven! So if you don't mind..." You let out an exasperated huff and clamber back under the filing cabinet.

The pieces were coming together in Venkman's mind. He may not be the brains of the technical side of the operation, but he was the resident genius when it came to human interactions. It was literally his field of expertise...business and personal.

"Well, what'll happen if you're not done when Egon gets back, if I may inquire?"

You finally look up from the papers into the relaxed, somewhat bemused face of Venkman.

"Well...I don't know what will happen, Peter. It's just that I want to meet his expectations (ridiculous as they are sometimes). You know he's particular about things and he's been working very hard lately. I just want to show him I can be relied on when he needs me."

Peter grinned widely and got up from the floor.

"Well Egon definitely needs someone like you he can rely on for the things he needs."

You were already focussed on back on your assignment, so Peter left you to it.

Columbia University: Institute for Advanced Theoretical Research

Egon Spengler was pacing.

He'd been pacing for hours, having fled to the solitude of his campus offices for some privacy.

He'd tried to sit and go through the files the librarian had pulled for him, but he found he kept reading the same lines over and over. He'd eventually thrown his highlighter across the room in sheer frustration.

He couldn't work.

So he'd turned to pacing...and thinking.

What state would he find you in when he returned? The anticipation had been building all day and his patience was rapidly running out.

He reached into his pocket and fingered the small vial of slime he'd placed there. It was nearly too hot to touch.

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

6:15 p.m.

He couldn't wait any more.

He picked up the phone and made the call.

Ghostbusters Headquarters

Peter was just about to stretch out on the sofa in his office for a quick nap when the phone at reception rang.

To his utter annoyance he realized that he was the only person downstairs, so he hoisted himself off the couch and sauntered begrudgingly to the desk.

"Ghostbust-"

"Peter! Good, it's you."

Peter's mood perked up instantly as he recognized the voice on the other end of the line.

"Spengs, that you?"

"Yes, Peter. Listen...a colleague at the university alerted me to a situation at the Bronx Community College where he was giving a lecture. Based on his description I think we're dealing with a Class V ectoplasmic manifestation. Get Winston and Ray on the scanner and tell them to meet you there. I've got to finish a very important experiment so I'll meet you all back at headquarters for analysis and containment when you get back."

"Woah, woah, woah Egg-head. You want us to book it all the way down to the Bronx?! It'll take at least two-hours in this traffic!"

"No choice, Peter. This is too dangerous to wait. You'll need all three proton packs so make sure you wait for Ray and Winston before heading in. You're going to Meister Hall on campus. Be careful and I'll see you all when you get back."

*click*

Peter stood there for a few seconds listening to the dial tone in his ear. His eyes flicked side to side, pondering this dilemma.

He knew...he KNEW what this had to really be about. He should be annoyed. He should refuse to go along with it because damn it he didn't want to go all the way out to the Bronx just to chase a red herring!

But he was oh-so-curious how everything was going to play out between these two.

Screw it.

He headed to the police scanner that connected to the Ecto-I.

"Come in, Ray. Egon's got a hot job for us tonight."

7:01 p.m.

You stared at computer screen, eyes aching and head pounding. You were only halfway through Egon's dictation and his verbose language was beginning to grate on your nerves. Why couldn't he learn to be concise? Just get to the point!

Growling under your breath you hit the backspace key for the hundredth time to fix a typo.

"Everything typed out verbatim, double-spaced, 1 1/2" margin, in triplicate." you muttered sarcastically. "It's not like you're going to even look at these, so I think 1.5 space looks better, ha! And as for these stupid margins..."

*SLAM!*

The door to the lab swung open.

"As for these stupid margins what?" a deep voice asked from behind you. You felt like a brick had suddenly landed on your chest as you slowly turned around.

Egon Spengler stood in the doorway, arms crossed, head tilted as he looked at you with narrowed eyes and a raised brow.

"Dr. Spengler! I just...I didn't mean stupid...I was just..."

You stammered and tripped over your words as he continued to just look at you with a bemused and oddly satisfied expression.

"You were just expressing your frustration at my seemingly insignificant instructions."

You couldn't think of an appropriate answer.

Egon checked his watch.

"I'm assuming that you were still able to finish those obligations?"

You looked down at your feet and fidgeted with your shirt hem.

"I finished the important tasks."

"I'm sorry. Did I elaborate which tasks were important?"

"I did them in the order that you gave me."

"And that delegates their importance?"

He looked at you as if you were some one-celled paramecium in a specimen dish.

You felt irritation building back up.

"It's just the transcripts! I'm nearly done."

"But they're not complete?"

"No..."

"No what?"

His shift in tone made you finally look up.

"Excuse me?"

"I said...no WHAT, Y/N."

"I don't understa-"

Egon took one step into the room and slammed the door closed behind him. You started at the suddenness of the action.

"I see I'll need to make this easier for you to understand. You haven't finished the tasks I've asked of you. You've purposefully and spitefully done many of the tasks incorrectly. You've been mocking me behind my back, and now you seem to have forgotten the very basic of manners when answering a question. I'm very, very disappointed that you would behave this way, young lady."

You froze. What did he just call you?

"The building is going to be empty for quite some time. I've made certain of it. We're going to finish the discussion right here, right now. I'm only going to ask you this one final time. I advise you to consider your answer carefully."

You felt a flutter in your stomach.

"No...what?" he asked you again.

Your lip trembled in frutrastation.

"Dr. Spengler...your assignment was unfair! You left me here all day to clean up your mess and I'm the one in the wrong?!"

Egon studied you for a moment, lips pressed together resignedly, before sighing:

"All right, then."

Confused, you watched as he removed his coat and draped it over the back of the couch. He began to unbutton his shirt cuffs and meticulously roll the sleeves up to his elbows.

Finishing the second sleeve, Egon walked around to the front of the couch and sat down. He looked up at you, a curious expression playing across his features for one brief moment before settling into seriousness.

"Come here, please."

Like a switch had been flipped in your brain, you felt your pulse quicken and stifled a sharp breath.

"Um, Dr. Spengler...I- I don't understand."

The tiniest of smirks played across his lips before he steadied himself and spoke again.

"I think you understand perfectly well. Come here." he repeated, pointing to the floor by his right side.

You weren't aware you were slowly shaking your head side to side. You weren't even aware that you were taking small steps backwards, inching closer to the open door to the stairs.

Egon leaned forward now and narrowed his eyes, his fingers now drumming impatiently on his knee.

"Y/N!" he said sharply.

Startled, you stopped cold. You took in his stern expression, his seated position on the couch, his long legs, his hands, his arms...those rolled up sleeves. A small fire was beginning to burn inside of you.

"What's going to happen if I do?" you finally ask, your heart beating like a drum.

Egon steeled himself, having waited as patiently as he could for this very question. He could feel his own anticipation reaching the breaking point. This was it. Looking straight into your eyes he answered:

"I'm going to put you over my knees and I'm going to spank you."

(to be continued...very soon!)