Disclaimer: alas, the guys don't belong to me. Would that I could change that.

It was one of Janine's nights to work late; she did that sometimes when she wanted off early another day or when the Ghostbusters were ultra busy. Peter didn't think they'd been ultra busy lately, but it was time for the quarterly report, so maybe that was why she was still at her desk when he got home early from a date around nine o'clock. Maybe she was lurking around hoping Egon would drive her home. When Peter strolled into Ghostbuster Central and headed for the stairs, the secretary looked up from the computer screen and spotted him, then her face crumpled into amusement and she started to snicker.

Peter stopped dead, suspicion burgeoning. Okay, what was wrong now? Was his fly undone? Nah, nobody'd looked at him funny on the subway, well, other than that little old lady whose eyes had widened in awe at the sight of him. Peter expected a reaction like that every so often--after all, he was famous and you never could tell who might be a groupie. But the amusement in Janine's eyes wasn't anything to do with fame. No one is famous to his secretary, after all.

" Hey, Big J," he greeted her. "What's shaking?"

She called her expression to order. "You're early."

"Marcy got called in to work to fill in for somebody who was sick, so I just came back. Guys in?"

Ecto-1 stood its usual parking space. They weren't out on a call. Peter hated it when they went on a bust when he was away from home. He never doubted their competence but there were a lot of nasty ghosts and entities out there who made the Ghostbusters' job difficult. Busting was safer with all four Ghostbusters working together, which was why they only took emergency calls after hours if the whole team wasn't available. At least there hadn't been one tonight.

"Winston's date fell through," Janine explained. "They're all home. Ray got back from his comic book meeting half an hour ago, and Egon was working in the lab until they dragged him out and made him quit." The corners of her mouth kept wanting to quirk up. What was that about, anyway? He knew far better than to ask her. If she could get him to question her she'd rack it up on her side of the scorecard. She was waaaay too good at keeping score in the ongoing battle of wits between them.

Would it be better to ignore her amusement entirely or to call her to order and insist on the respect due him as her employer? Probably not. She'd never had any respect for him as her employer. Instead, she had considered him fair game from the very beginning. She was probably trying to yank his chain to alleviate the boredom of a long evening of paperwork. Had to be it. He glanced down at himself surreptitiously. Yep, fly was zipped okay. Wasn't that.

She saw the quick check, and mischief sparkled in her eyes. Sternly calling herself to order, she applied herself to the computer, her fingers flying as she entered data. But the corners of her mouth fought a losing battle not to turn up. Peter hated that. Whatever this was about, just knowing about it was enough for Janine. She didn't even care if she scored points. He wasn't going to like this.

Best thing to do was to ignore it high handedly. So he made himself grin at her. "Not a second of overtime," he chided sternly.

"You can do better than that."

He knew he could. Worse, he couldn't possibly ask her what was so funny, not without granting the victory to her. So he decided to go on with his plan. "Night, Janine," he said and walked up the stairs without buying into her amusement. That should drive her nuts.

The last glimpse he had of Janine was the secretary, her hands clasped over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Bad. Very bad. The other shoe was going to drop with a horrendous thud any minute now. Probably land on his head.

The guys were watching TV. Winston and Ray were in sweats but Egon already had on his nightshirt and slippers. He'd had the flu earlier in the week and still got tired early. He looked a little weary but definitely on the mend. If he hadn't, the other two would have done more than forcibly evict him from the lab. They'd have sent him to bed. Egon might have resisted, but he'd probably have gone. That he was still on the second floor hanging out was a good sign, even if he was wearing his nightshirt already. Had to give a guy points for taking a fashion risk like that, even if Janine had once remarked to a friend while gabbing on the phone that she liked the way Egon looked in it. Peter would have liked to hear more, but she'd clammed up when she'd realized he was listening. Peter had settled instead for teasing Egon when the subject came up. "So, where'd she see you in your jammies anyway, Egon? Something going on here I don't know about?" Egon had ignored such questions as beneath is dignity.

Nightshirt teasing wasn't going to work now because when he crossed the second floor toward the TV area, three heads lifted and three pairs of eyes studied him with the same amused fascination as Janine had. Damn. What was it? He have something on his clothes? Food on his face? Bird doo doo in his hair? Ray whipped something small out of sight behind him, and the three men cracked up and simply howled with laughter. A little rib-nudging went on, and Winston gave Ray a quick high five.

"If somebody doesn't tell me what's going on in the next ten seconds, I'll have Slimer get my revenge, and don't believe I couldn't do it, either," he threatened.

The little, green ghost, who had been drifting idly near the half-eaten bowl of popcorn, zoomed over and stared at Peter. "Not long hair," he remarked with great disappointment. The spud circled around Peter, sniffing him and studying him with big, yellow eyes.

Peter's hands shot up to explore his 'do'. It felt the same as usual. The gesture only added to his buddies' mirth. Peter eyed them sourly, then he pounced, tackled Ray, and thrust his hand behind Stantz to yank out the object Ray had concealed.

It was a paperback book.

At the sigh of it, Peter's stomach tightened up in horrified realization. Damn. He should have known this would happen one day. Carefully he risked a glance at it to be sure.

The woman in the cover picture was practically falling out of the bodice of her dress. It was a period costume, sometime from the 1700s, he thought vaguely. She had masses of long copper-colored hair that fell back unbound in flowing waves to nearly her waist. The man behind her had his arm around her shoulders. He was garbed as a pirate in a white silk shirt with ruffles, open to the waist to display a manly chest, tight trousers that revealed his contours vividly, and glossy, black knee-high boots. His hair was long, too, down to his shoulders on the sides and back, swept away from his forehead. Vivid green eyes regarded the woman with a look that was one part leer, one part adoration and she gazed back raptly. The title, The Pirate of Pendennis, suggested a Cornish location, and the sails of a ship flying the Jolly Roger were visible in the distance behind the pirate in question. The pirate looked exactly like Peter Venkman.

He'd never thought the guys would see this book. Bodice rippers were hardly their usual reading fare. Janine, however.... Peter had forgotten about Janine. She read books like this all the time; she read all kinds of books. She must have found it in the bookstore or even the checkout line at the market, and brought it to work. Maybe she hadn't noticed the likeness at first, but from her giggles downstairs she'd definitely noticed it now. She must have given it to Ray to bring upstairs when he had come home.

He would never live this down.

"I think you have a fan, Peter," Egon said in the driest voice he could manage. It was difficult when his mouth was doing an identical twitching number to Janine's.

"I have thousands of them," he offered extravagantly. Could he ever carry this off? He could foresee months of teasing ahead.

"Can't they get sued for using your image?" That was Ray. "You had a fit when they did it at the Carnival that time, when they had the Ecto-1 ride."

"Yeah, Pete." Winston could barely manage a straight face. "After all, they got you wrong here." He grabbed the book and tapped on the pirate's chest. "Look at all that chest hair."

Peter did, rather enviously, although he tried not to let it show. He snatched the book back and held it up above his head when Ray grabbed for it. "What are you guys doing reading stuff like this? Love stories? I thought you were three manly guys. I hafta say I worry about you."

" Janine brought it up to show us," Egon admitted. Aha. She was busted. Peter started to plan his revenge.

Only way to carry this off was high handedly. "You guys are just envious," he proclaimed. "Look at me. I look great. Women all over America are going to lust after me. Why shouldn't they, after all?"

Egon groaned. "I was afraid of that."

"Of what?" Bad question. Egon always told him.

"The Venkman ego. Peter, you actually posed for this picture, didn't you?"

Busted. How did Spengs do that.

Ray's mouth fell open in disbelief. "You actually posed for it? Really?"

He opted for drama and fell into the stance of the pirate. Probably looked silly in his jeans and sports jacket, but...nah, the great Venkman look silly? Not on a bet. He looked great.

The guys cracked up all over again. Hastily, he slid into normal stance. "You're just jealous," he accused them, "'cause I'm the one got asked, not you. Got to pose with her." He nodded at the big-busted woman on the cover with him. Never mind he'd volunteered, when he was dating Karin Pratt. She whipped off covers like this by the dozen as a sideline for extra money. The money Peter had been paid for modeling for her, not that it amounted to much, had gone into the kitty here at headquarters to cover some of the business's lean times and had helped to pay for some of the Ghostbusters' more esoteric -- and pricey -- equipment. He wasn't about to admit that. It was like found money, after all. Why shouldn't it help to keep the business afloat? The other three didn't have to worry about paying the bills. Left that delightful job to him. This was one way to make it stretch a little further, but he didn't want to admit it. He tried not to look embarrassed and secretive.

"Perhaps we have better taste. Unfortunately, I suspect you'll be insufferably vain about it," Egon returned.

"Vain? Egon, I'm not vain."

"Perhaps your definition of that word is different from Webster's."

Peter glanced at the cocky pose on the cover of The Pirate of Pendennis and had to admit there might be something to what old Spengs suggested. He would never live this down, not if he lived to be a hundred. And then there would the guys' reaction down the road when they saw the other six covers he'd posed for. That would remind them of this, every time a new book came out. Janine would be on the alert for them now; she'd buy every single one, and some of them were worse than this one. The guys would make his life a living hell.

He couldn't let them know their teasing bugged him, though. "Nah, if you've got it, flaunt it." If only they didn't look so blasted amused.

"Hey, Pirate." That was Winston. "Are there gonna be more of these?"

"Heck yes. I'm gonna take my profit and buy myself a new car."

A sudden, knowing look slid into Egon's eyes. Oops. He'd probably figured it out. When had he learned to read Peter so well? He didn't say anything, though, just allowed the awareness to show. He probably knew exactly where Peter had put his modeling salary. Suddenly, the humor in those blue eyes was lit with the warmth of understanding and approval.

Winston and Ray continued to rag Peter, but Egon only smiled. For all of ten seconds, Peter felt like a prince among men.

Then he considered Egon's probable reaction when the next romance came out, the one sporting a tall, blond, blue-eyed hero in Regency attire that Karin had painted from the pictures of Egon Peter had sneaked out of the firehouse for her to use as references. The Duke's Dilemma would also have a Regency lady with red hair on its cover who would bear a striking resemblance to Janine. She would bless him for it, if she ever found out he was the one responsible, would probably buy ten copies and show them to all her friends. Egon, on the other hand, would be far less forgiving.

When that book came out, Peter's ass would be grass.

FINIS

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