Remember Remember

[Devon Wentsworth]

Remember remember the 5th of November.
Gunpowder, treason and plot.
I know of no reason
Why the gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.

His classes were done for the day and it was already beginning to get dark as Devon sat on the doorstep outside his house. The Brit had always been somewhat sensitive to the cold and he was fairly certain that if he didn’t have his thick jacket on his nipples would have frozen off by now. It wasn’t quite that cold but his breath did hang lazily in the air as he chewed idly on a piece of bonfire toffee, one of the many things that had arrived in the parcel to him that morning.

It seemed to Devon that every time he was just beginning to get over the homesickness another thing would come along and rub his face in it. It had been four months since he had arrived in the states and he was still pining for home, he was just gradually getting a little better at managing to hide it. Or so he had thought, anyway.

This time last year Devon had bolted home from work and showered and changed at the speed of light. That had been followed by going for a meal with his mum and Cade, then to Roundhay Park with friends and family to watch the fireworks display before heading back to Cade’s for beers and a movie. It was tradition, something that he could rely upon to always be there and something that he deeply looked forward to every single year. This was the first year he could remember that Devon hadn’t spent this day with his friends and family, and he wasn’t handling the isolation from them well at all.

There weren’t even any bonfire parties or fireworks displays to go to here, and even though Devon could understand why it didn’t stop him resenting that a little bit. An American celebrating Guy Fawkes would be like a Brit celebrating Thanksgiving or Independence Day – it just wouldn’t make much sense. Devon checked his phone again; it was still quiet. He’d had a few text messages earlier and Cade and his mum had phoned while he was on his lunch break, but it still felt wrong to not be doing something. With a sigh he pocketed the phone, fishing out his lighter and picking up the packet on the ground beside him.

Pulling out one of the sparklers Devon lit the end, grey eyes watching it flare into a sparking silver light. He half-heartedly drew a star in the air, followed a few moments later by a smiley face. “Happy birthday to me…”

[Ferris Macklin]

It had taken several days for Ferris to turn his schedule around and make up the sleep deficit brought on by the Halloween Debacle, and in the intervening time he'd let Devon Think About What He'd Done. Ferris had not accepted any apologies (because he hadn't been mad enough to need one and wanted to forget the entire thing as quickly as possible), but had just told Dev to not do that kind of thing to him again.

But that the Wentsworth Cleanse was still on for November.

Proving that Ferris could be a gentleman about things (up to a point), he had not baked any pastry with the windows open and had not (yet) allowed Roman to knock on the Brit's door repeatedly while eating any. It was a near thing, but he wouldn't do that, not with what Cade had been texting him.

When Ferris pulled up to the front of their row of townhomes, he found Devon having a combined birthday/pity party and hid his grin. Rolling down his window, he leaned out and watched the sparkler fizz out.

"You gonna just sit there or are you gonna get in the car?" he called.

[Devon Wentsworth]

As the familiar car pulled up by the curb Devon fought back a cringe. He hadn't known at the time quite how badly putting Ferris' name into the matchmaker would upset his friend and he still felt bad about the upset and distress it had caused him. Devon had never exactly been very good at controlling his impulses and to him it had seemed like a good way to get Ferris out and maybe crack through his reserved shell a little bit. Now he could all too clearly see why it had been a stupid mistake, and despite the fact Ferris hadn't wanted to accept any apologies, it hadn't stopped Devon from trying.

Devon was coping okay with the lack of pastry (for now anyway); it was the lack of company that was bringing him down far more. Though he was still kinda talking to Ferris and he doubted the slip-up had put too big a long-term-dent in their friendship, it was still an uncomfortable feeling facing up to him. It was like disappointing Cade all over again.

Watching the sparkler fizzle and fade, Devon stubbed it on the ground thoroughly to make sure it was well out before discarding it onto the small porch for the time being. The question made his eyebrow quirk and he sat still for a moment, but then he put the rest of the sparklers inside, made sure the cats had food down and locked up before sliding into the passengers seat of Ferris' car.

Getting settled in the seat, Devon fastened his seat belt before looking across at his friend, trying to gauge his mood. The lack of a smile wasn't exactly promising. He tried to inject some humour into his tone, but considering his mood it fell flat. “Where we headed? I don't think you're cliché enough to dump me in the woods alone.”

[Ferris Macklin]

For his part, Ferris was completely over the prank (thanks in large part to his repression security team) and was lightly amused (and somewhat annoyed) that it felt weird to not be mashing cold butter into flour more than once a week. Well, it would be good for everyone.

Looking out, Devon seemed down, which was in line with how Ferris figured, but he kept his own face neutral. He wasn't dressed as warmly as the Brit, but he had a fall coat on over his t-shirt and had the heater going in his car. A hint of a smile... or maybe a smirk... lifted one side of his mouth. "You'd be surprised at what I'd do, Mr. Wentsworth."

Pulling back onto the street, he flicked on the radio. "Find something you like, we've got a ways to go."

The sun finished setting as they drove, adding to the mystery. The traffic was light and they made very good time. In just under seventy-five minutes Ferris's headlights flickered over the sign welcoming them to New Hampshire. "Almost there."

[Devon Wentsworth]

Ferris’ comment did cause a soft breath of a laugh to leave Devon’s lips, though his expression remained fairly grim, and he shrugged his shoulders. “At this point I’m not sure anythin’ could surprise me. Though I’ll be disappointed if you do just drop me in the woods. I at least want a chainsaw murderer or haunted cabin or somethin’.”

A small frown of curiosity wrinkled Devon’s brow as Ferris said they had a way to go, but the Brit obediently flicked through the radio stations until he found a classic rock one, keeping the volume respectfully low as Sweet Child O’ Mine marked their departure away from Pilot Ridge.

The heater in the car did its job and after fifteen minutes or so Devon had awkwardly wriggled out of his jacket, tucking it onto the back seat. Long fingers absentmindedly drummed along on his leg to the music from the radio as they travelled, Devon occasionally popping another piece of toffee and sharing the bag of it with Ferris.

As they continued to travel, heading much further out from Pilot Ridge than Devon had been since his arrival, he began to get a little uneasy. He trusted Ferris completely, but not knowing where they were going, at night, so very far away from home put him on edge a bit. “New Hampshire? Where the hell are we going?”

[Ferris Macklin]

"Be careful what you wish for," was all he'd say.

Ferris was okay with any music choice outside of rap or religious (yes, even country), and one foot tapped a little as he drove. He took a few bits of the toffee, but otherwise just drove. The route wasn't hard, but he'd never taken it before and he was on something of a timetable.

At Devon's question, Ferris just turned and let the flash of his teeth indicate his smile in the darkness. Three miles into The Granite State, Ferris turned down a side road that ended in a giant empty parking lot for a closed-for-the-season fairground.

"All out. Take your coat."

Hopping out of his car but not bothering to lock it, Ferris leaned against the driver's side door, waiting.

((tag Rome))

[Dr. Roman Tilford]

The moment Ferris had let him in on the plans for one Devon Wentsworth's birthday, he had been in.

After all. What self respecting adult that is secretly seven years old would pass up a celebration like this?

He and Ferris had conspired together to come up with the plan of a lifetime to help Devon celebrate his birthday in style. The plan? Copious amounts of fireworks, coupled with an unnecessarily large bonfire.

... He might have gone slightly overboard on both accounts.

While Ferris was collecting Devon, Rome had been busy setting up the parking lot they'd secured for the party. They'd done their homework, pulled the permits needed, and he was hoping that Devon would appreciate it.

As the car pulled up, Rome grinned and lit up the bonfire that was ready and waiting, watching the flames whoosh to the top of the pile in record time.

Yeah. It was time to party.

[Devon Wentsworth]

The whole drive had been full of far more questions than answers, and Ferris' continued evasion was beginning to eat into Devon's nerves and his patience. He had never been especially great at just waiting to find out what was going on (his mother had ended up having to hide his Christmas presents at their grandma's house every year) and Devon was getting fidgety and somewhat irritable as already rather limited patience began to wear thin. He could have been at home watching Game of Thrones now! A pizza would have been ordered, copious amounts of beer consumed and he could have spent some quality time watching and re-watching a certain scene involving a certain red-haired fire priestess.

As the car pulled into the fairground car park the look of quiet irritation on Devon's face was replaced with a confused frown, and he sat more upright in the seat as they came to a halt. “What the hell is goin' on, Ferris?”

At the command Devon gave a slightly frustrated sigh, unbuckling his seatbelt and stretching in the seat before reaching back to snag his coat. As he opened the car door Devon had been glad of the command and shrugged into his jacket, fastening it up quickly and pulling the collar close around his neck.

Then the fire caught his eyes.
For a brief moment Devon panicked, wondering what was happening, but as realisation dawned on him the Brit's jaw dropped and he stared at the flames with a mixture of disbelief and an odd longing. His feet moved slowly in the direction of the vast bonfire, grey eyes locked on the flames and his mouth moving wordlessly.
For the first time in many years, Devon Wentsworth was utterly speechless.

[Ferris Macklin]

Ferris was of the opinion that if Kiko wanted more help planning her wedding, she should just tell Roman that it was to include a gigantic fire and an entire store full of fireworks and she'd have no problems at all. They'd both gone in to fund things, both contributing perhaps more money than prudent, but then... fireworks. Srsly.

Nearby, spread on a blanket over a tarp and now illuminated by the bonfire, was Ferris's other contribution to the party. A pair of gala pies, one that was fully eighteen inches across (for Devon) and a much smaller one (for himself and Roman). Snacks from Cade and a birthday cake sat covered neatly on the cloth. Ferris had baked the pies and cake beforehand and Roman had taken them in his car so the chef's wouldn't betray the surprise with the smell.

High fiving the psychologist as he walked over, Ferris could finally grin, and he did, widely. As Devon walked toward the fire, which was really magnificent, he started singing.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Deeeeeeevon, happy birthday to you!"

Pulling one of many lighters from his pocket, he walked over and lit a bunch of roman candles in holders. The night filled with showers of colored sparks. Walking over to the stunned Brit, he clapped him on the back, laughing. "Sorry about the drive. Fireworks are illegal in Vermont. But not in New Hampshire. Happy birthday, Dev. What do you wanna light up first? We practically bought out the store."

[Dr. Roman Tilford]

If Devon's face was anything to go by, they had just aced this whole bonfire plan. Rome grinned as he happily high fived Ferris back. "I think we did good, hey?" Despite Devon's fantastic impression of a fish, he was pretty sure the Brit was impressed.

He joined in with Ferris' singing, moving to sling one arm around Devon's shoulders and giving him a light shake, just to bring him back down to reality with the rest of them. Once it was over, he grinned and gave the art teacher a final shake before letting go. "Happy birthday, Devs."

While he was sure he was just as eager as everyone else to faceplant the insanely tempting spread on the cloth, there were more important things at hand. Like copious amounts of fireworks that were just begging to be set off. "Did buy out the store," Roman corrected with a proud grin. When you were still not-so-secretly a teenager, the chance at setting of a metric ton of fireworks wasn't taken lightly. "C'mon Dev. Let's get this party started!"