Bored Much? (Devs)

[Dr. Roman Tilford]

Roman had already finished with two sessions for the morning. School letting out might have meant a vacation for a few of his friends, but that didn't mean anything to him. He was stuck at his desk for the rest of the week, as well as the foreseeable future. At least he had a few things to entertain himself with during the lull between appointments. Like the never-ending game of Words With Friends he kept going with James for reasons he didn't quite understand himself, and short computer games.

He was merrily searching the internet for a letter combination that would allow him to score major points against James when the sudden ringing of his phone nearly caused him to drop it. A rather unflattering picture of a ferret face-first in a piece of cake showed up, along with Devon's name. Rome arched an eyebrow. School had been out for what, a day? Two?

Against his better judgement, he answered it. "Devs? What's up?"

Because what was work?

[Devon Wentsworth]

It had only been three days. Three. The students had graduated on Friday evening, and it was now Monday afternoon. Technically that only made it one day of no lessons. Not even one day. Just over half a day. What had he done with that day so far? He had washed the cat litter trays, rearranged his CD's in alphabetical order by band, polished the drum kit, watched half of Avengers Assemble, painted the bathroom door, put a batch of cookies in the oven and had just finished nursing the scratches on his forearms that were the result of trying to bath the rather hot and flustered looking cats.

He was just so very. Very. BORED!

Ferris was still working through the break because, well, the kids still had to eat, and Rome was still working because his job didn't just quit for the summer. Sure Devon had a few little events planned out for the kids at Hammel that were staying behind over the break, but they weren't happening now and Jesus Christ he was going insane cooped up in the house!

Needing a distraction from the mind-numbing tedium that was already grating away at him, Devon picked up the phone and speed-dialled Rome. Devon knew that his friend's phone would be off if he was in a session so he didn't feel too bad about calling him. This was an emergency after all!

There was an audible sigh of relief when Rome answered the phone. “ROME! You have to save me, mate. The boredom is killin' me! Like, literally! I can feel my brain cells marchin' off and abandonin' me!”

[Dr. Roman Tilford]

Rome missed the days of school that allowed freedom all summer. He hadn’t had that since he’d graduated university, but still. HE MISSED THEM. A lot. He loved his job, loved helping the kids, but sometimes he just wanted to play.

And it did not help that one out of two of his mischief making friends was off for the summer too. He knew Ferris was still working, but Devon was off. It made dragging himself to work in the morning that small bit less fun.

Devon’s call, however, made work that slightest bit more fun. Grinning, he leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “I can’t save you right now. Some of us have jobs, remember? Jobs that require us through the summer.” Rome got busier in the summer due to kids being more available for sessions. Still, he had some time. He could attempt to entertain him. “What’ve you done so far to alleviate said boredom?” If he didn’t know, he couldn’t give him ideas.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Unlike his friend, Devon had never much been a fan of summer's off for precisely the reason he was whining about now. Although granted they did mean that he could go to more concerts and festivals without having to worry about lectures first thing on a Monday morning – I mean, seriously? Who schedules a art history theory lecture for 9am on the day immediately after Download? Who is together by then? You can still taste the homebrew vodka from the Saturday night.

Alas, here he didn't even have the festivals to look forward to. This year he'd already missed Download and Isle of Wight, and he was going to miss Leeds, T in the Park and of course his beloved Glastonbury. Maybe next year, once his funds had settled and he wasn't having to buy things that were actually important to his life here, he might be able to get back home for at least a couple of them. Hopefully. “Jobs so important you've got time to goof off and talk to me? Sounds cushy.” Devon's tone was gently teasing, and he already felt a little better for having been able to talk to someone that wasn't a cat.

“Well. I painted the bathroom door, sorted my CD's out, cleaned the drums, tried out my new camera lens a bit, watched half a film and made biscuits. Not the crappy kind, actual proper chocolate biscuits.” He lounged back on the sofa, kicking his heels up onto the low coffee table. “Oh yeah, then I tried to get my arms to stop bleedin'. Did you know that, no matter how hot and flustered they look, cats get REALLY pissed if you try to bath 'em?”

[Dr. Roman Tilford]

Rome had never been one for music festivals. His idea of fun during the summer was usually gluing himself to the sofa and attacking a solid pile of video games. It didn't get to happen as often as he might have liked now, but Kiko and his friends were worthy distractions.

Rome scoffed and rolled his eyes, switching which hand he was holding the phone with. "You're lucky I was available to entertain you." And would be for a little bit yet. Very lucky Devon.

He listened as Devon went down the list of activities, smiling in amusement. "And you're not in front of me with the biscuits, why? C'mon Devs, share the wealth." Also teasing, but hey, two could play at that game. "And I could have told you that cats don't appreciate baths. Even Bliss freaked out, hey?" He couldn't picture the little orange cat causing trouble, but if anything would, a bath probably would have done it.

Now. What to suggest?

"Why don't you take your fancy new car for a drive and take more pictures? Go somewhere fun." After a beat, he grinned. "Take yourself to the zoo or something. Be with your own kind." Yes, more teasing.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Devon smirked down the phone, settling down on the sofa and getting comfortable. Bliss hopped into his lap and he gave her head a gentle fuss; she hadn't stayed mad at him long. Poor Uno was still sulking under the kitchen table, though. “Well, maybe if you had a proper job you'd be workin' instead of slackin' off and talking to me.”

It was all good natured teasing of course, and Devon used the remote to flick the TV on quietly in the background while they were chatting. “Well, you can always come round later. There might be a couple left, if I've not ate 'em all out of boredom by then.”

Looking back, Devon wasn't entirely sure what had possessed him to try bathing the cats. He didn't have a whole world of experience with felines, and thought they might have appreciated being cooled down a little, like the dog they'd had when he was a kid. “Yeaaaaah... She freaked right out. Not as bad as Uno though. My arms ain't thanking me. Good job I'm a quick learner, ey?”

Devon was actually pondering on the idea Roman presented... right up until the playful dig at the end. “Well, obviously you wont want biscuits that've been made by a badger, right? Guess I'll just have to eat 'em all myself now, woe is me.”

[Dr. Roman Tilford]

It was a good thing the office was quiet at the moment, as Devon's comment made Roman laugh. "Right, right. I do nothing all day except talk to you on the phone and play computer games. Don't help kids or anything." He paused, head tilted slightly. "At least I don't play with fingerpaint." ... Okay, that was a lie, sometimes he drew with his patients to help them open up, but it wasn't even close to what Devon did all day. And Devon really didn't need to know about that.

"I might take you up on that. Kiko hates everything to do with the kitchen and I haven't had time to bake recently. Save at least one, hey?" That's all he wanted. One magical chocolate biscuit, courtesy of his favorite shapeshifter.

Not that Devon was likely to save him anything when he made digs like that. Still grinning, Rome picked up a pen and twisted it around and around his fingers. "Don't you dare. I don't care where your dirty badger feet have gone, it'll still take them. Fur or no fur." The chances of cat hair being in them was already pretty high, and it didn't bother the psychologist in the slightest. What was badger fur? (Not that he believed for a second that Devon would try to bake in an animal form in the first place.) "But seriously Devs, you asked for ideas, and I gave you one." Trying to think of reasoning that wasn't in teasing form, he sat up properly. "If you want something really fun, drive to New York. It isn't really that far, and their zoo is amazing. Kicks the butts of every single one between here and there. Just think. You could talk to the otters there and they can giggle over your accent too." Another pause. "... Or you can sit in your house with angry cats?" He wasn't sure what else to suggest. After all, he'd thought it was a good idea. Maybe he was wrong.

[Devon Wentsworth]

“Hey! Don't mock the finger-paint! It's a time-honoured tradition.” And a perfect excuse to get a bit messy and unwind without having to actually focus on a 'proper' piece of work. Not that finger-paintings couldn't be great, but they didn't have the same weight of expectation as charcoals or oil paints. Devon picked up one of the still warm chocolate and hazelnut biscuits, nibbling on the edge. It was pretty good, if he said so himself. Which he did, often.

Even though he knew Roman couldn't see him, Devon instinctively gave a nod of his head at the request to save at least one. “Sure thing, I'll put aside a couple for ya to take back. And even if they somehow don't make it 'til ya get here, I'll put some more in the oven. Not like I've got anything else to do this afternoon.” Christ, if he was this desperately bored now, what would he be like two weeks from now?

Devon quirked an eyebrow at the 'dirty badger feet' comment and tried to sound shocked, but he couldn't help the note of laughter in his tone. “Doctor Roman Tilford! I think that might actually be racist! Or species-ist, at least.” Devon of course never even attempted to cook in any form other than his usual one, and he made sure that the cats were always shut out of the kitchen while he was cooking to keep everything fur-free. He might be a scruffy git in some regards, but he'd been raised well enough to have some hygiene standards.

At Roman's idea, though, Devon gave it some real thought. “Hmmm, maybe. It'd give me a proper chance to try out my new lens, at least. And I do like tapirs.” He chuckled quietly to himself. “And it has been a while since I chatted with an otter.” Taking another bite of the biscuit, he gently petted Bliss' back as she settled down on his lap. “Be kinda borin' on my own, though. I mean, you're in work all week and Ferris' still workin' most days. Whom I gonna talk to on the drive there?”

[Dr. Roman Tilford]

Rome couldn't help it, he burst out laughing. So much so that his receptionist peered in with a dirty look. Innocently waving at her, he attempted to rein himself in. "Devs, you can't say stuff like that. It's..." More giggles. "Ridiculous." Time honoured tradition his ass.

At least he was getting biscuits out of the deal. Grinning, he leaned back further in his seat, one arm resting behind his head. "Perfect. Do I have to share with Kiko?" The question was rhetorical, as no matter what, he'd probably be sharing with her. "And for the record, baking your day away is kind of... Housewifey. Awesome, and I'm not complaining, but it totally is."

He wasn't actually expecting Devon to respond like that. Cue a sputtered laugh that earned him another dirty look. "It is not racist! It's true! I don't know where you go with your feet when you're badger-y, but it's probably dirty." He was still grinning, though. Hopefully Dev knew he meant no harm. Between himself, Devon, and Ferris, teasing was commonplace.

At least Devon chose to settle down and think about how to fix his boredom. Taking pictures at the zoo sounded a lot more appealing than work, but he didn't have the option. The question made him think, tapping the pen on his desk. Then, genius. "Bob has a kid, doesn't she? Kids like zoos, and just think. You'll have arm candy and someone to talk to. ... And Bob." No, encouraging Devon's stupid Bob joke was a bad idea, but it was probably the only way to talk to him about it like an adult. ... Sort of.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Hearing Rome laughing caused a grin to split Devon's face, and he settled down on the sofa rather pleased with himself. It had always made him very happy to make other people laugh, so much so that his mother had often said that he'd grow up to be a clown. Sod that, though. Clowns were creepy as hell. “Ridiculous? Now you are insulting my profession?!? Shame on you, Tilford!”

Shrugging his shoulders, Devon idly flicked through the channels on the television, nothing catching his eye. “I don't think ya get a choice about sharin' with Kiko, do ya? I mean, I wouldn't have secret biscuits on her watch. No offence, but she's scarier than you.” At Roman's next comment Devon barked a laugh, gently petting Bliss as she spooked slightly at the noise. “Y'know, I bet I'd make a great housewife. I can bake, I can decorate, and I look fuckin' awesome in stockings and heels.”

Devon of course knew that Roman was teasing and meant no offence, and absolutely none was taken. In truth, after he'd been romping around outside while all 'badger-y', he wouldn't want to eat anything made by those paws either. However, that wasn't going to stop him from playing up and he gave a tut-tut-tut down the phone. “Roman Tilford... I always thought you were less prejudiced than that. You disappoint me.”

At the suggestion of Bob accompanying him to the zoo, Devon's bright smile turned into a slight frown and he was quiet for a long moment as he thought it over. “I can't ask my brain tumour to go to the zoo with me; that's weird.” The chances of Devon ever letting that go were slim, and he tended to take any opportunity to remind Roman of it. “I mean, it's not like I hate my tumour or its attached... mini-tumour? Is there a name for them? It'd be weird and odd and I can't and it'd be awkward and-” Devon realised he was rambling and halted mid-stream, quiet for a moment as he got his thoughts back into order with a quietly frustrated sigh. “It'd be too weird... Wouldn't it?” The uncharacteristic crack in his voice at the last two words betrayed his utter uncertainty, but also his lack of a complete denial of the idea.

[Dr. Roman Tilford]

Devon was going to get Rome in trouble, the amount he had him laughing. So much for passing this off as a call from his wife, his sisters, or, gasp, a professional call. Still giggling, he attempted to shush his friend. “Devs, stop it! You’re gonna get me in trouble.” Not that he wasn’t already. The joys of private practice. His receptionist was known for being a bit of a buzzkill when trying to keep him and Ben in line. Especially when they got into their Angry Birds contests.

Of course he’d share with Kiko. Because Devon spoke the truth. When she was mad, Kiko could be very, very scary for a slim, petite, smoking hot Japanese-American woman. She wasn’t mad often, but it had happened enough for Rome to be wary of the potential for it to happen. “She’s totally scarier. I’m not arguing that.”

And now he would never get the image of Devon in heels and stockings out of his brain. Rome spluttered in a rather in-elegant manner and shook his head. “I need brain bleach now, thanks. That image is gonna haunt my nightmares.” And that was the last thing he needed. A Devon prancing around in heels and stockings in his subconscious. “And I don’t want to know why you know that.”

At least the idea of baking badgers leaving dirty footprints around the kitchen was safer. Or at least less... disturbing. Rome grinned and ran his fingers through his hair as he shifted in his chair again. “Only prejudiced against dirty badger feet,” he teased right back. “Someone has to be.”

As the mockery died down, Rome tried (and failed) to resist rolling his eyes at the reference to the brain tumor. It wasn’t his fault that Devon had never seen Kindergarten Cop and thus had failed to see the humor in his deadpanned ‘It’s a tumor’ comment. He hadn’t expected Devon to misconstrue the line into a death sentence when really, from all Rome could see, he was just suffering from relationship-phobia. At least he’d explained himself, but the damage had been done, and Devon clearly enjoyed reminding him of that every chance he got. “Your brain tumor goes everywhere with you,” he reminded him right back. Two could play at that macabre game. “And I know you don’t hate Bob. Or Bob Jr. But seriously... Devon, just man up. It’s a trip to the zoo. Friends go to the zoo. You don’t have to make it a date. Just call her, see if she wants to go with her kid. Then you’re not lonely in the car, and you can talk. Like adults.” Like they so seldom did when they were out with the third member of the Goof Patrol. “For Christsake, Devs. It’s not rocket science. You’re friends. Friends do stuff together. ... Stuff that doesn’t involve dares and getting removed from places. That’s our thing.” He didn’t know what else he could say. “No one’s telling you to get married or anything, you commitment-phobe. Just... I don’t know. But it’s not that weird. Go as friends. Figure out why you get brain-tumory around her. If it’s too weird, you’re still friends. If it’s not... then.. there you go.” Why did he feel like he suspected his sisters did when they coached him through things? “Or you can sit in your house with wet, annoyed cats, or break into Ferris’ house and steal some more pastry. It’s up to you.” He shrugged and leaned back, looking up at his ceiling.

[Devon Wentsworth]

Of course Devon did not intend to get his friend in trouble at work... but then again, should Rome really have been taking personal calls on work's time? No, he should not, and so Devon justified it in his own mind that if Rome got in trouble it was his own fault. He chuckled down the line, devouring another piece of the cookie, which was rather good if he did say so himself. Which he did, often.

Rome's sputtering at the comment regarding lingerie and heels made Devon grin wickedly, giving a quiet laugh of amusement. “Come on, you totally do want to know. Curiosity'll win in the end.” It had become a tradition for the lads in his circle of friends back home to get dragged-up for nights out celebrating birthdays, stag nights, or pretty much any other celebration. It wasn't done for embarrassment; in fact, it had become something of a badge of honour. And of course, the natural show off that he was, Devon had really pushed the boat out when they'd gone out for his thirtieth. Especially since by then talks were in motion about a possible move abroad. “Tell you what though mate; that look works. Or it did for me, anyway. Christ, those twins were hot...” Devon slipped into a moment of nostalgia to wilder days when he wouldn't have been sat at home bored on his days off, but it didn't last long as the conversation continued.

When Rome went on his mini-tirade about Bob and Bob Junior Devon tried several times to interrupt him and stop him talking but no words produced themselves. Every time he tried to say something he just couldn't work out what TO say. His rational brain told him that Rome was making sense, that what he was saying was sensible and realistic and right and potentially good for him. Alas, the rational part of his brain was, as usual, vastly overshadowed by the irrational and compulsive part of his brain and it ended up knotting up into a ball of panicked frustration.

“FINE! Fine! You win! I'll phone her! Just stop saying words like 'commitment', and 'dating' and fucking 'MARRIAGE'. Just... Stop talking and I'll phone her! JESUS!”

With all the elegance and grace of a three year old having a tantrum, Devon shut off the call and sent his phone for a flying trip onto the sofa on the other side of the room. God DAMN it, Roman! Fine! If he was going to phone her, there would have to be a drink first... and probably some pastry, now that Rome had mentioned it...