The Scientific Method (Egon/Reader)

1: Fleeting Dreams

You woke up breathing heavily, lips tingling. It was still dark outside and the clock on your nightstand showed it was only 3:02 a.m.

You roll onto your back and bring your hands up to your face. You felt flushed. What woke you? A dream? You tried to remember what it was. It was always so frustrating how quickly dreams just seem to elude a person's memory. 

Your entire body was tense and warm...ughhh what was it?! It wasn't a nightmare, you knew that much. The dream had been good. It had been very, very good. It had felt so real. You could sense the memory trying to surface. It was so close....

Oh god! 

You gasped, the dream erupting in your mind with perfect clarity. You giggle softly to yourself, feeling arousal wash over you while replaying as many details as you can, trying to lock them into your mind. 

A gentle undulating sound next to your head called you back to the present. You peek over at your nightstand. A small chemistry beaker sat next to your clock, filled with a pale pink slime. It had sat stationary all evening since you had brought it home from work; however, it was now a deep, rich shade of fuschia. The volume of the slime had also increased from 100 mL to just over 200 mL. It had begun to move as well, a gentle rise and fall, like the ocean tide. Fascinated, you sat up in bed and carefully touched the sides of the beaker. It was much warmer now, almost like the temperature of a hot shower. 

You grabbed the small notebook and polaroid camera that had been sent along with the beaker and wrote down the date, time, volume, color change, type of motion, and (after finding the glass mercury thermometer in the drawer) the current temperature of the slime. You took several pictures, getting as many angles as you could. 

After a few more minutes, you noted that the slime was beginning to return to its original state.

 Fascinating! 

You were completely awake now, dream forgotten. He had told you to report to him immediately if any large changes occurred, day or night. But would he actually be awake at 3 o'clock in the morning? 

You checked the instructions he had written down for you on the first three pages of your notebook. On the last page was the contact information:

Any significant variation observed (most notable being temperature, movement, and volume) should be thoroughly documented as described on page 2. Please label all photographs with date, time, and initials. Upon completion, return specimen to the lab at once so that further testing can commence.  ~DES

If he said immediately, he meant immediately, you decided. The man was literal to a fault. You hoisted yourself out of bed, dressed quickly, and ran a brush through your bedhead. Carefully gathering all of the supplies, you had out, and not wanting to walk New York City streets so late at night, you hailed a taxi. 

"14 North Moore Street." you tell the driver.

This gave you a few moments to rest your still tired eyes. You began to nod as the taxi hummed its way through mostly quiet streets. 

The dream began to seep back in, and you could feel a deep rush of heat flood your cheeks. The beaker you had carefully stowed in an empty shoebox with the notebook and camera began to darken once more, unbeknownst to you as you dozed.  You woke up with a start as the taxi braked. You looked out the window and you had already reached the office. You really had fallen back to sleep!

You paid the driver and quickly walked to the back of the building, fumbling for your keys in your purse. You get the door open as quietly as possible, stepping inside and locking the deadbolt. Other than the lamp at Janine's desk, the entire first floor is dark and silent. The car was missing which meant that at least two of the boys were out on a late night call. Hopefully he had stayed behind. You really didn't want to go all the way back home. 

Reaching the stairs you tiptoe your way to the third floor. Soft yellow light is peeking out from under the door and you hear the scraping of a stool as someone sits down. You rap on the door gently. The stool scraped again and footsteps approached. It opens enough for a bespeckled pair of eyes to peer through, one brow raising in surprise upon seeing you. 

"Y/N? What's wrong?" 

"No, nothing's wrong. You told me to report back immediately if I observed any changes with the specimen."

His eyes suddenly sparked with scientific intrigue.

"Excellent. Bring the specimen inside and set it over on my lab table."

You didn't realize it, but as you walked past Dr. Egon Spengler, he was observing the deep flush that still colored your cheeks from the cab ride over.

"Interesting..." he murmured to himself before closing the door. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(to be continued)