Francine
Title: Francine
Fandom: Ghostbusters
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Peter Venkman, Ray Stantz, Egon Spengler, Winston Zeddemore
Summary: It had been the result of an accident, really. But the name stuck. It had taken a while for Venkman to stop calling him Francine. Ray-centric. Movie-verse.
Note: Written in 2009. My sense of humour was clearly lacking then. Archived from FFN.
-
"Would you come over here, please? That's it, c'mere, Francine," Ray shot Peter the Look, and Peter ignored him, as he usually did when he called Ray by that name. It didn't matter so much to him now. Before them, was the Holy Grail, of their years in parapsychology. "What do we do?"
Egon pulled out a calculator- presumably, he was so into the fact that this was their first actual sighting of a spectral manifestation, that he didn't exactly realise they were standing, and gaping in front of a ghost.
Peter whacked it from his hand- he seemed snarkier than usual today. Probably because he'd been pulled from a date with a female student he'd been admiring for a while. "STOP THAT!" Peter fairly exclaimed.
-
It had been the result of an accident, really. But the name stuck, as unwanted names were wont to do. It had taken a while for Venkman to stop calling him Francine. Finally demanding if Peter had wanted his face rearranged had done wonders.
It was quite uncharacteristic of Ray, but then, he had been rather aggravated- Peter had been teasing him endlessly with that name. And by endlessly, he meant, rather, "at every available opportunity." Even Egon, while quietly amused at first, had slowly become resigned about the inevitability of that nickname.
It was a joke, long gone stale and dead.
They had settled to some kind of truce after he had blown up; with Peter calling him 'Ray' once more, and reserving 'Francine', as a particular jab with a hook of memory for moments when he was especially sarcastic, or reminding Ray of times when his impetuousness and enthusiasm had brought things too far.
And after a while, time dulled the sharper impact 'Francine' had, to the mild sting, the good-natured joke that could be taken between friends.
After all, it took some time for Ray to be able to look back at the mortification he felt and laugh, as they filed it under the 'Stupidest Fifty Moments of The Team', just under the entry where he and Egon had screamed at the slightest movement of the trolley at the Sedgewick, and nearly fried a cleaning lady.
Venkman had teased him for that as well, and Francine took on another meaning- especially after he and Egon had screamed like a bunch of girls. Although Janine had raised an eyebrow when Peter had been joking as they headed back in to the firehouse, she said nothing.
She was a good employee, able to take the more abrasive jokes Peter made, especially after she saw Ray and Egon standing up to the good-natured ribbing. But still. She wasn't exactly one of them.
-
He really should have paid more attention during the tutorial, he knew. But he had recently picked up a really great copy of Spirits 'N Spectres: The Other Side from a cheap occult bookstore- he knew the owner well by now, and he couldn't wait to devour its contents.
Egon was the responsible one, who would have sat through the tutorial, and probably read the book all the way to two a.m. in the morning. But Oswald Kreizchmov was one of the better writers of the occult he'd read so far, and he had been waiting to get his hands on the book for several months, before it had finally come in.
Just this once, he reasoned. He was keeping up with his lessons with no great difficulty, and he was quite sure he could clarify that which he wasn't entirely sure about with Egon. That was, if a second re-reading of the lecture notes proved the subject matter to be completely incomprehensible.
He was quite sure the professor wouldn't notice- perhaps might even be slightly relieved, that his enthusiasm would, for once, be under control in class.
It was easy to let himself get absorbed in the book- the book ran through several theories of the origins of spirits, as well as some issues on myths of an underworld, and then examined them. It was probably Egon's kind of book as well, and Ray knew Egon would probably borrow it as soon as he was done with it.
He followed the words carefully, weighing their meaning in his mind. The implications of such were…interesting. There were some theories proposed that suggested ghosts were composed of energy, although he was sure that couldn't be right- some sightings reporting a sticky, goo-like residue left over…something like plasma.
They used the term that Charles Richet had come up with for it- ectoplasm, although not all agreed with his assessment, as some of the books he had previously read had shown. More interesting was Kreizchmov's hypothesis on how ectoplasm manifested, although Ray knew that Egon had a different take on that issue…
A question was murmured, and repeated again, more insistently. Peter, next to him, elbowed him, and Ray winced- inside. Oops! Discovered!
He put the book away quickly, trying to regain his equilibrium. He had always intended to pay some attention to the tutorial and follow the tutorial, except it wasn't as easy as it seemed- the book was enough to pull his attention away and focus it completely on its postulates.
"I'm sorry, professor, could you repeat the question again?" He felt rather guilty, and wondered why the professor stared at him. He lowered his gaze slightly. "I'm sorry, I missed the question, sir."
He caught vague snickers from the class, and he didn't understand why. He shrugged to himself. His class was greatly varied in attitudes- there were the eggheads, like Egon, and then there were the students who were still treating this class as a course on mysticism or spiritualism, which was wrong. But then, that explained the disparity in the grades.
Still, why did they laugh?
"I asked if Francine could tell us about the challenges posed by skeptics about the possibility of psychic abilities, as demonstrated by Uri Geller." The professor repeated. He was a somewhat short man, with a receding brown hairline, and dark grey eyes. There was amusement in his features, as he watched Ray, expectantly.
Oh, crap-
He could hear the snuffles of people trying to hold back giggles of laughter, as the actual Francine, a girl with short, fair hair and brown eyes burst into actual laughter. And then the whole of the class started to lose it.
Even Egon was fairly amused, and Peter-
Well, Peter was grinning like the Chesire cat, all over again.
He leaned over to whisper to an absolutely mortified Ray, "I'm never gonna let you forget about this- Francine."
-
"Egon?"
"Three hundred meters." Egon said. He said nothing else; he was entirely focused on his readings, and the count. If he made a mistake, they would fall. To their deaths.
Ray was confident they would be fine; Peter less so. But Peter complained just for the sake of it- it was part of his sardonic nature.
"This is going to work, right, Ray?" Peter asked, as they stared down into the darkness of the subway tunnel. If it didn't, there would be Ghostbuster roadkill they'd have to remove from the tracks later.
"It should." Ray answered. He was pretty sure it would, in any case. How else would they get onto that train- quickly? It showed no signs of stopping at any station- it'd missed two so far.
"Okay. For future reference, 'It should' isn't want you say when you want to reassure someone he's not about to jump to his death." Peter said, dryly. Ray considered making a response; was about to, in fact, when Egon continued on his count.
"Two hundred."
They waited, in silence- and a partly nervous silence, and a silence born partly of anticipation and tension. "One hundred." Egon called. The train was nearing. They had to get this right-
"NOW!" Egon called out loudly- even he was not unaffected by the adrenaline rush this was creating. Quickly, they lowered themselves down to the train, on the climbing ropes they had. Peter was the one who was unlucky- he hit against the side of the train- a glancing blow, but enough of one. He was yelling in complete shock and fear- he was going to slide down and hit the tracks-
And then Winston's arm shot out and grabbed him, holding him tight and arresting his fall. Ray's heart stopped pounding. He'd cheerfully admit he'd do it again though- there was something in sliding down the rope onto a moving train that appealed to him- the adrenaline being part of it.
He grabbed hold of Winston- Winston too, was slipping down the surface of the train. When they'd helped each other back to solid footing, he remembered to tell Peter, somewhat smugly-
"Told you it would work."
"Shut up, Francine."
Fandom: Ghostbusters
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Peter Venkman, Ray Stantz, Egon Spengler, Winston Zeddemore
Summary: It had been the result of an accident, really. But the name stuck. It had taken a while for Venkman to stop calling him Francine. Ray-centric. Movie-verse.
Note: Written in 2009. My sense of humour was clearly lacking then. Archived from FFN.
-
"Would you come over here, please? That's it, c'mere, Francine," Ray shot Peter the Look, and Peter ignored him, as he usually did when he called Ray by that name. It didn't matter so much to him now. Before them, was the Holy Grail, of their years in parapsychology. "What do we do?"
Egon pulled out a calculator- presumably, he was so into the fact that this was their first actual sighting of a spectral manifestation, that he didn't exactly realise they were standing, and gaping in front of a ghost.
Peter whacked it from his hand- he seemed snarkier than usual today. Probably because he'd been pulled from a date with a female student he'd been admiring for a while. "STOP THAT!" Peter fairly exclaimed.
-
It had been the result of an accident, really. But the name stuck, as unwanted names were wont to do. It had taken a while for Venkman to stop calling him Francine. Finally demanding if Peter had wanted his face rearranged had done wonders.
It was quite uncharacteristic of Ray, but then, he had been rather aggravated- Peter had been teasing him endlessly with that name. And by endlessly, he meant, rather, "at every available opportunity." Even Egon, while quietly amused at first, had slowly become resigned about the inevitability of that nickname.
It was a joke, long gone stale and dead.
They had settled to some kind of truce after he had blown up; with Peter calling him 'Ray' once more, and reserving 'Francine', as a particular jab with a hook of memory for moments when he was especially sarcastic, or reminding Ray of times when his impetuousness and enthusiasm had brought things too far.
And after a while, time dulled the sharper impact 'Francine' had, to the mild sting, the good-natured joke that could be taken between friends.
After all, it took some time for Ray to be able to look back at the mortification he felt and laugh, as they filed it under the 'Stupidest Fifty Moments of The Team', just under the entry where he and Egon had screamed at the slightest movement of the trolley at the Sedgewick, and nearly fried a cleaning lady.
Venkman had teased him for that as well, and Francine took on another meaning- especially after he and Egon had screamed like a bunch of girls. Although Janine had raised an eyebrow when Peter had been joking as they headed back in to the firehouse, she said nothing.
She was a good employee, able to take the more abrasive jokes Peter made, especially after she saw Ray and Egon standing up to the good-natured ribbing. But still. She wasn't exactly one of them.
-
He really should have paid more attention during the tutorial, he knew. But he had recently picked up a really great copy of Spirits 'N Spectres: The Other Side from a cheap occult bookstore- he knew the owner well by now, and he couldn't wait to devour its contents.
Egon was the responsible one, who would have sat through the tutorial, and probably read the book all the way to two a.m. in the morning. But Oswald Kreizchmov was one of the better writers of the occult he'd read so far, and he had been waiting to get his hands on the book for several months, before it had finally come in.
Just this once, he reasoned. He was keeping up with his lessons with no great difficulty, and he was quite sure he could clarify that which he wasn't entirely sure about with Egon. That was, if a second re-reading of the lecture notes proved the subject matter to be completely incomprehensible.
He was quite sure the professor wouldn't notice- perhaps might even be slightly relieved, that his enthusiasm would, for once, be under control in class.
It was easy to let himself get absorbed in the book- the book ran through several theories of the origins of spirits, as well as some issues on myths of an underworld, and then examined them. It was probably Egon's kind of book as well, and Ray knew Egon would probably borrow it as soon as he was done with it.
He followed the words carefully, weighing their meaning in his mind. The implications of such were…interesting. There were some theories proposed that suggested ghosts were composed of energy, although he was sure that couldn't be right- some sightings reporting a sticky, goo-like residue left over…something like plasma.
They used the term that Charles Richet had come up with for it- ectoplasm, although not all agreed with his assessment, as some of the books he had previously read had shown. More interesting was Kreizchmov's hypothesis on how ectoplasm manifested, although Ray knew that Egon had a different take on that issue…
A question was murmured, and repeated again, more insistently. Peter, next to him, elbowed him, and Ray winced- inside. Oops! Discovered!
He put the book away quickly, trying to regain his equilibrium. He had always intended to pay some attention to the tutorial and follow the tutorial, except it wasn't as easy as it seemed- the book was enough to pull his attention away and focus it completely on its postulates.
"I'm sorry, professor, could you repeat the question again?" He felt rather guilty, and wondered why the professor stared at him. He lowered his gaze slightly. "I'm sorry, I missed the question, sir."
He caught vague snickers from the class, and he didn't understand why. He shrugged to himself. His class was greatly varied in attitudes- there were the eggheads, like Egon, and then there were the students who were still treating this class as a course on mysticism or spiritualism, which was wrong. But then, that explained the disparity in the grades.
Still, why did they laugh?
"I asked if Francine could tell us about the challenges posed by skeptics about the possibility of psychic abilities, as demonstrated by Uri Geller." The professor repeated. He was a somewhat short man, with a receding brown hairline, and dark grey eyes. There was amusement in his features, as he watched Ray, expectantly.
Oh, crap-
He could hear the snuffles of people trying to hold back giggles of laughter, as the actual Francine, a girl with short, fair hair and brown eyes burst into actual laughter. And then the whole of the class started to lose it.
Even Egon was fairly amused, and Peter-
Well, Peter was grinning like the Chesire cat, all over again.
He leaned over to whisper to an absolutely mortified Ray, "I'm never gonna let you forget about this- Francine."
-
"Egon?"
"Three hundred meters." Egon said. He said nothing else; he was entirely focused on his readings, and the count. If he made a mistake, they would fall. To their deaths.
Ray was confident they would be fine; Peter less so. But Peter complained just for the sake of it- it was part of his sardonic nature.
"This is going to work, right, Ray?" Peter asked, as they stared down into the darkness of the subway tunnel. If it didn't, there would be Ghostbuster roadkill they'd have to remove from the tracks later.
"It should." Ray answered. He was pretty sure it would, in any case. How else would they get onto that train- quickly? It showed no signs of stopping at any station- it'd missed two so far.
"Okay. For future reference, 'It should' isn't want you say when you want to reassure someone he's not about to jump to his death." Peter said, dryly. Ray considered making a response; was about to, in fact, when Egon continued on his count.
"Two hundred."
They waited, in silence- and a partly nervous silence, and a silence born partly of anticipation and tension. "One hundred." Egon called. The train was nearing. They had to get this right-
"NOW!" Egon called out loudly- even he was not unaffected by the adrenaline rush this was creating. Quickly, they lowered themselves down to the train, on the climbing ropes they had. Peter was the one who was unlucky- he hit against the side of the train- a glancing blow, but enough of one. He was yelling in complete shock and fear- he was going to slide down and hit the tracks-
And then Winston's arm shot out and grabbed him, holding him tight and arresting his fall. Ray's heart stopped pounding. He'd cheerfully admit he'd do it again though- there was something in sliding down the rope onto a moving train that appealed to him- the adrenaline being part of it.
He grabbed hold of Winston- Winston too, was slipping down the surface of the train. When they'd helped each other back to solid footing, he remembered to tell Peter, somewhat smugly-
"Told you it would work."
"Shut up, Francine."