Old Pranking Buddies (Devon)

[Kateri Rivera]

Kateri had come back to a classroom completely lacking in supplies. This exasperated her. She knew that they’d had a sub while she was on maternity leave—she’d supplied all the lesson plans, the tests, the readings, the practice problems, everything—and she knew that sub was still going to pick up on any of the classes that she couldn’t make while she was still working part time. A two-month-old baby wasn’t one she wanted to leave home alone, and while her mother was currently in town, helping her get reestablished at work, she didn’t want to be separated from Meg for too long. She was becoming one of those mothers. But she didn’t really regret it, nope. The sub seemed to have done a decent job. The students understood the math and didn’t seem to have many problems. However, the sub also seemed to have taken all the supplies Kateri had left for her.

How irritating.

She didn’t seem to have enough time to go shopping for new ones, and she desperately needed scissors for her quizzes for the next week. So instead, once classes were over, she crept her way into the art room—which the instructor locked, oops, but the keys seemed to be the same universally, or maybe Kat wasn’t half-bad with a hairpin—and glanced around in search of scissors. She felt a little bad, but promised her that she’d give it back to him later.

If she could find them, that was. She started as the door opened, then turned around and offered a sheepish grin.

“Ah, hello. You must be the art instructor.” He looked familiar. Why did he look familiar? She wasn’t sure she’d ever met him before—he’d come when her hours had been becoming limited, she thought. "I'd say I have a logical explanation for this, but I'd be lying."

[Devon Wentsworth]

What saddened Devon the most about the repeated assaults on the art classroom was that they kept seeming to be being caused by the students that claimed to love art the most. He could completely understand being enthusiastic and wanting to create, but there was a line between enthusiasm and vandalism. Between making use of the equipment and material theft. He encouraged the students to come to the classroom during the free hours while he was around, to get involved with creativity more and to release their imaginations. But despite the locks on the doors there seemed to be a ceaseless wave of students breaking in out of hours, raiding the supplies cabinet and leaving his beloved classroom looking like a paint bomb had gone off in it.

He dreaded to think of just how much the constant cleaning of the classroom and replacing of supplies was costing the school, and he was honestly surprised he hadn't had the headmistress breathing down his neck to try to get it under control. He kept the room locked whenever he wasn't in it and tried his best to enforce some level of respect of the school rules (not to mention anti-theft rules), but what more could he do? With students who could walk through walls or find any other number of ways to get to the supplies it was a constant uphill struggle trying to maintain some level of order, and the Brit was getting utterly frustrated with it.

The lessons for the week had revolved entirely around trying to get the students to show some level of respect for the supplies they were able to work with during classes. For the past few weeks Devon had been collecting all the paper scraps, broken paintbrushes, bits of string and other odds and ends of the classroom, including all the clutter that the vandals kept leaving behind. Each student had been given a small canvas to work on, but they were only allowed to use materials out of the scrap tub. With the exception of glue and paint, if it wasn't in the tub, they weren't allowed to use it. The aim had been to create mixed-media mini canvasses and hopefully try to teach the kids a little respect for the frankly astonishing range of materials they usually got to work with.

The kids had created some really awesome pieces, there was no doubt about that. As to whether the subtle lesson had struck home, well... he'd have to wait and see.

After classes had finished Devon had popped off to the staff lounge to grab a brew before starting the laborious job of tidying up the room for the evening, and on his return he was surprised to see a redhead rummaging around in the supply cupboard. He frowned slightly, wondering if he'd forgotten to lock up again, and placed his mug down on the desk. The lady's sheepish smile was met with a slightly curious one from the Brit as he tried to recall why she seemed a little familiar. Had he briefly seen her around in the corridors some time, maybe? Her not-quite-an-explanation caused a soft laugh to leave his lips and he shrugged good naturedly. “Makes a change from the students rummaging through there, I guess.” With a little bounce he hopped up to sit on the large front desk, legs swinging idly as he cradled the mug once more. “Yeah, I started just before the summer break. Anything in particular you're lookin' for in there?” He chuckled softly. “Asking might help you stop having that real guilty feelin' later.”

[Kateri Rivera]

Ah, another one from across the pond! Kateri brightened considerably at his words, even though they weren’t really…positive. Then she made a sympathetic face. “Oh, you get that too? Mine always come in for the rulers and the compasses. I don’t know why for the second one. They’d be better off stealing the calculators, although—“ She grinned “—as that would mean death, I can see why they wouldn’t. Let me guess—you’re another import from Kocher?” She was always pleased to meet people who were from Europe, although she was always a little saddened by the lack of Irishmen. The English were never quite as fun, and besides, she missed the accent and the warmth a bit. “Nice to meet you. Kateri Rivera.” She offered her hand to him. “Maths.” And back from maternity leave, which was probably why she hadn’t met him before—although he definitely DID look familiar.

She nodded to his statement. “That makes sense. I was out…a little after that. Maternity leave. Just got back.” Too early in her opinion, although she did like her job. But it had been hard parting from Meg. Still, she wasn’t getting paid while on leave, and had had to use quite a bit of her savings and lean more on Dean than she would’ve liked to. She wasn’t a particularly political person, but she did want to protest on that. How was a single mother supposed to live on four months without pay? Come to think of it, how did two people manage if one wasn’t getting paid? Pregnant women ate a lot, and food was not getting cheaper. But she reserved that crusade for a later date.

“Scissors,” she said. “And I really wasn’t intending to steal them permanently. See?” She brandished a sheaf of papers and shrugged. “Just needed to cut these out, and my substitute seems to have stolen mine. I’ll even stay here if you don’t mind—that way, they won’t be let out of your sight. Also, you might want to consider changing that lock. I know it’s not school policy, but it’s not…that hard to pick.”

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon laughed softly as he sipped at the tea, making a mental note to bring some of his Yorkshire Tea bags in from home tomorrow. The tea here sucked. “I tried threatening death but they called my bluff. Apparently I'm not so scary.” He gave a small shrug. “Though one of the kids did seem to believe me when I threatened to use their mobile to demonstrate the destruction of a small object. There's only so many times I can hear the opening notes to a Taylor Swift song without going all Incredible Hulk at it.”

Nodding at her question, Devon smiled easily. “That's right, yeah. Glad to meet another import, I was beginning to think we were an endangered breed.” When the lady introduced herself and offered out her hand Devon's brow furrowed slightly as he kept running the name around in his head. Kateri.. Kateri... Where the hell have I heard that before? He took her hand with a gentle grip, shaking softly, clearly muddling over something. “Devon Wentsworth. Art.” He gave a soft breath of a laugh. “Obviously.”

Her statement caused the smile to return though and Devon's voice became animated. “Oh, congratulations! That'll explain why I don't know ya.” And yet... He sipped at the tea again before placing the mug down on the desk. “Did ya have a boy or girl? What's their name?”

Sliding off the desk Devon made his way over to the supply cabinet, indicating to one of the drawers. “The normal scissors live in there but, if you want the real scissors-” he removed a set of keys from his pocket, using them to unlock one of the closed drawers. “The paper shears are in there, or there's a guillotine on the workbench over there.”

As Kateri spoke about the locks the vaguest hint of a smirk crossed Devon's lips and he nodded in agreement. “I know; they only got installed over the summer. Any kid with half a mind could easily get thr-” Devon halted mid-word as it suddenly clicked and he turned to face the redhead with an almost victorious smile on his lips. “Kateri Rivera! You graduated in 1999, you wore a real pretty blue dress to the summer dance that year...” Devon cringed slightly but his mood was still clearly high. “You probably got in trouble after that. I never got a chance to apologise, so yeah... Sorry for gettin' us caught.”

[Kateri Rivera]

Kateri’s eyes swept him up and down, and then she shrugged. “Well, you’re scarier than I am.” Not quite the truth. Although the redhead wasn’t exactly tall (read as: absolutely tiny) she could intimidate quite well due to her weather-manipulating abilities, pop quizzes and general refusal to take any shit from any students. But on the other hand, she was always also fair, and that counted for something, right?

“We are, haven’t you noticed? But we’re imports, so I can only guess it makes sense. You’re English, but I’ll try to forgive you for that.” When you were largely alone due to a small international community, you let grudges go. Plus, she was only half-Irish. She just didn’t tell her mother her feelings in this matter. “Devon?” Her mind raced, churning over the names in her head. Why did that sound familiar? She didn’t notice him being muddled because, well, she wasn’t much better. Oh, she did know this one. Yet she was pretty sure she hadn’t met him here. Then again, they were close in age. Perhaps they’d been at Kocher together? Seemed reasonable, unless he was one of the non-powered ones.

As usual, mention of Meg brought a smile to her face—even a less weary one than usual. Having to leave to work made her miss the girl quite a bit. Plus, she’d gotten enough sleep the night before. “Girl. Named Meg. Absolute sweetheart, when she isn’t crying loud enough to wake the neighbors.”

She followed him over to the cabinet and bent down to look. “Thank you. I’m sorry for breaking in. I swear I’ll have my own scissors shortly, and I always return them.” She flashed him a grin. “Got too tired of no one else doing it. It’s a pet peeve of mine.”

She was just examining the different options with a gleam of satisfaction when Devon stopped speaking, and she glanced up, brows raising at the smile on his lips. And then she was smiling herself before she threw herself at him for a big hug, pulling back to grin up at him.

“You got taller! Shame. Devon. I knew I knew the name! How have you been?” Still having issues with confined spaces? “Don’t apologize. It was the best dance I ever went to.” She winked. “And I still have that flower. You didn’t get into too much trouble after I left, I hope?”

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon laughed softly at her comment, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. “I wouldn't put money on that. I know plenty of women who'd kick the arses of blokes twice my size.” There were many women who would probably be able to kick his arse pretty easily, thanks mostly to the fact he had all the core strength of an infant, but she didn't really need to know that. Devon knew he could be imposing and intimidating when absolutely necessary but scary wasn't exactly his forte. If it absolutely came down to that, his wolverine form would trump his own every single time.

Kateri's comment about his Englishness caused a cheeky smirk to pull at the corner of Devon's lips, and he picked up the mug of tea and cradled it gently in his hands, relishing the comforting warmth. “And you're Irish, but I'll try my best to avoid assuming you're an alcoholic who believes in leprechauns.”

When the woman talked about her child it did cause the cheeky smirk to settle into a more honest smile, and he nodded and said “congratulations” in earnest. After taking a drink he settled the mug back down on the desk as he walked Kateri to the supply cabinet.

Devon gave a vague wave of a hand as Kateri apologised for breaking in. “Don't worry about it; makes a change from it being one of the kids. Least I don't have to give you detention for it.” He laughed softly, giving her a pointed look and putting on a melodramatic scolding voice. “But next time I might. It never hurts to ask first, young lady.”

As he made the realisation of who she was Devon was thrilled when he figured that she had worked it out too, and he returned the hug warmly with a wide grin. “I got taller? Tsssk... Wish I could say the same about you.” Devon pulled back quickly with a flinch and a laugh, readying himself for any playful punch that might be aimed his way. “Yeah, it was an awesome night. I bet they're still cleaning up the glitter now... Christ I miss those days.”

However, Kateri's next comment caused Devon to falter, his mouth hanging slightly open as he looked at her in disbelief. Her last question fell on completely deaf ears, and it was a few very long moments before Devon was able to find words again. “You... Kept the flower?”

[Kateri Rivera]

Kateri’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Well then. You’re fair warned, Devon Wentsworth. I don’t know if I could kick your arse, but I’d certainly make a good effort of it.” She’d bet that he was a big softie underneath, though. He was taller now, and perhaps he could look tough, but Kateri had spent time around tough men and could predict, quite accurately, when it was show and when it wasn’t. Plus, she had an advantage. She was a woman and Devon was just enough of a gentleman not to fight back.

“Says the man sipping his tea with the air of the true English snob,” Kateri retorted, then laughed. “But you’ve got the alcohol bit right. If I hadn’t just had my little girl, I’d challenge you to a drinking match right here and now. As it is, I’ve got a while to wait. All my tolerance is running right out of me, I swear.” But she didn’t mind. Nor was she even tempted—okay, maybe a little tempted, but not seriously so—to drink any alcohol. Meg deserved better. Kateri was determined to be a good mother. Her look softened at the “congrats,” and she nodded her thanks before turning her attention back to the scissors.

“Next time,” she called over her shoulder, “be in the office and I’ll ask. Not my fault the door wasn’t hard to pick.” She flashed him a grin and found the scissors with a flourish. “Here we are!”

But of course, her task was completely forgotten with realizations. “Oh, shut up!” She punched his shoulder playfully, right as predicted—and hard enough to completely deserve the flinch. “I still think I have some in my hair, you twit. But it was worth every minute.”

Kateri was never very fond of it when people didn’t answer her questions, and Devon had brought back all of her old forceful personality—without the mellowing that children and years of teaching had inflicted on her. “Of course I kept the flower,” she said. “It’s on my desk. Why wouldn’t I? It was lovely.” She frowned up at him, folding her arms over her chest. “Devon, you aren’t going to get all sappy on me, are you?”

[Devon Wentsworth]

The snob comment brought a chuckle from the Brit and he took another sip of his tea, complete with pinkie sticking out at an angle. “S'right. Proper blue blood, I am. Crumpets for breakfast and singing God Save The Queen when I'm getting' amorous. Gotta be done!” Devon smiled easily, giving a shrug of his shoulders, but shook his head quickly at the mention of a drinking contest. “Hell no! I like my booze and can hold it as well as the next pasty Englishman, but I'm not dumb. You lot drink like you don't want to live.”

A playful smirk curled Devon's lips and he rolled his eyes dramatically at the door comment. “If I'da known you were here I'd have had iron bolts put on it. Tricksy little thief.” It was all in jest of course – when he'd been back at Kocher he'd been just as bad as Kateri, if not worse. He still fondly recalled her enthusiasm to help him steal the supplies they'd needed, as well as to help out on the day itself. Time apparently hadn't changed either of them all that much.

Devon's certainly hadn't beefed up much since he had graduated from the school in Switzerland, and the punch stung far more than he would ever let on. He brushed it off as best he could with a laugh, flexing his arm slightly. Ah, the very many drawbacks of being feeble. Stupid power. “I'm certain I still keep finding bits when I shower... but you're right. It was so very, very worth it.”

At Kateri's mention of him getting sappy Devon shot her a mock 'bitch please' look, but the expression in his eyes made it clear that her reveal about the flower had really hit a note with him. “Don't be daft, woman. I just didn't expect ya to have kept it.” It had been one -admittedly awesome- but ridiculous night about fifteen years ago. Why would she have kept it? He didn't even hang on to someone's phone number the next day.

[Kateri Rivera]

Kateri couldn’t stop herself from laughing at the other man and his impersonation of the “proper” Englishmen. The “God Save The Queen” in particular resulted in her bent over, cracking up. “Devon, that’s a horrible, horrible image that I didn’t need in my head at all. And we do not!” She straightened up and prodded him in the chest again. “My mother was practically a tee-totaler, as they say here. She rarely drank, if ever.” That was a total lie but like Devon would ever know, right? She certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

“Tricksy?” Kateri’s lips curved up. “Who says tricksy except the little odd-looking grey fellow in those Lord of the Rings movie? But yes, iron bolts.” She smiled at him. “Probably a good idea, all considered. Especially with all these students. They like to break into things. Or you could just start teaching maths. They’d stay far away from you if that were the case. Besides, you should know all the tricks by now. What’s your excuse, Devon? You should have them well away.”

She grinned. “I definitely found the bits when I showered,” she said. “And still do, but I wish I could say I cared. Some of the students still write me about it saying how awesome it was. I hope they send you messages too.”

He was still looking upset. Or at least in shock. Kateri studied him, looking a little bit worried, then shrugged. “I keep things I like. It’s what I do. Which is why I fully intend to keep you.” She winked at him. Now that you’ve joined the dark side and transferred. I have a little girl now, so I’m not drinking right now, but maybe coffee later, and a decaf beverage for me? And then later we can grab drinks and…how do the Americans say it…paint the town?”

[Devon Wentsworth]

It felt good to see Kateri laughing quite so heartily and Devon's grin was bright as he laughed along, placing his mug back down on the tabletop out of the way for now. “Surely everyone does that! Singin' the national anthem, thinkin' about chairs, imaginin' their partner with a bulldog head. It's tradition!” Devon's jaw dropped in mock shock as Kateri prodded his chest, grey eyes wide, the Brit doing his best to keep the grin off his lips. “Ey, careful missy! That's abuse! I could get ya arrested for that!”

At Kateri's scolding of his word choice, Devon tutted playfully and rolled his eyes. “Tricksy is an awesome word, don't mock it. Like haggard and shenanigan and... pie.” Perhaps not the most elegant or refined word in the English language, but certainly one of the ones Devon most liked to hear. “I do know all the tricks – but they're hard to counter against when you've got kids that can walk through the doors. Iron bolts ain't great for holdin' out them... And doors are only effective against certain shifters. I'm proof of that.” He did fondly remember their mad evening, and how he had got them to (albeit temporarily) avoid capture by wriggling under the door of a janitor closet and unlocking it from the inside. It had all gone so well, right up until the moment his claustrophobia had kicked in.

When she mentioned the other students back at Kocher, Devon gave a small shake of his head. “Nah, I'm not really in touch with anyone.” He laughed quietly under his breath. “I wasn't exactly one of the popular kids, y'know? When I left there I was pretty glad to leave it behind, in all honesty.”

Devon was indeed in shock at the discovery that she'd kept the flower. He just... couldn't quite wrap his head around why. He'd never been especially sentimental and couldn't understand why it had meant enough to her for her to keep it not just when she graduated, but for all this time, and half a world away from where it had been given to her. That being said, it was definitely not an unpleasant feeling and a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. At her next comment, however, his lips curled into a playful smirk. “Keep me?” He chuckled, folding long arms across his torso. “I may turn into a cute lil’ critter, but you know I don’t take to cages so well.” The humour was high in his voice and grey eyes sparkled with a childish sense of mischief. “But sure, you’re on. Just give me a time and place. ‘Bout time this town had some life shot into it.”