This is the first (thing I remember)/Now it's the last (thing left on my mind)

[cowboy_newsie]

Who: Stubby Boardman and the Lone Ranger
When: Oct. 14th, noonish
Where: The sky.
Summary: Flying lessons

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[atrumcanis]

Sirius favored nights, certainly. It was the preferred time for Maraudering, by full moon or black sky or any time at all. But after a time, he needed to sleep--and he enjoyed it, really, especially the sleeping in bits. That was most enjoyable of all. There were nights where he was too excitable or jittery to get much sleeping done--but he had nothing on Jack, not in that latter category.

That was to be expected, of course. When Jack had said that he had nightmares, Sirius hadn't expected what had come next. He had nightmares, after all. Everyone did. But not like these, not like Jack's. And he didn't resent going in to wake his flatmate--that was something that mates did for one another. More what he resented being unable to do a bloody thing about it besides waking him.

And after last night--after Claire's whatever that was, a bloody scarecrow and torture and being tied up and all the rest

[cowboy_newsie]

He leaned back carelessly, resting against the wall as he glanced at his roommate. He didn't try and smile back in return, too wound up for that, but he did let his lips quirk upward for a moment in acknowledgment of the humor. His fingers tapped against his leg restlessly, his shoulders tense and his jaw set, though he attempted to feign calmness as he sat there

[atrumcanis]

"If you were a completely honest man, you wouldn't be mates with me," Sirius dismissed, quirking an eyebrow. "But I'll take your word anyways, by virtue of the fact that we're mates at all. It'll merely have to do."

He set aside his textbook--it was upsidedown, no wonder he hadn't been able to focus on a single word, the few times he'd glanced down in an effort to read. The keys were in the pocket of his jacket, which was across the room on the doorknob--so Sirius hauled himself to his feet and went for it, turning his back on Jack for a moment.

A grimace twisted his face as he fumbled for the keys. Times like these were enough to remind him that Jack was someone different--not James, or Remus, or Peter. Sirius knew his flatmate fairly well, certainly, but not enough to know what to do all the time. If it were James, he'd tackle him; if it were Remus, he'd throw bits of chocolate at him; if it were Peter, he'd tease him--but none of them had half the history that Jack had, and he'd know them for nearly seven years, and the fact

[cowboy_newsie]

He grabbed the keys, pushing them into his pocket as he all but leapt to his feet. They were doing something, thank god, thank god, and even if it wasn't the bloody retribution he craved, it was something. "I'm honored," he remembered to drawl as he followed Sirius outside. A brief consideration was given and debated (get his jacket?) before it was dismissed (no, too much effort

[atrumcanis]

"Oh, don't," Sirius immediately shot back, "don't do that. They're such lovely fingernails--seeing 'em ruined'd be such a bloody shame. I'd do anything to spare you that disgrace."

He tried a grin over his shoulder. With things like this, it was best to just keep at it--staying sarcastic and making jokes (no matter how weak)--because the moment it stopped, there would be silence, and from silence came trouble.

The garage was locked up, of course, but Sirius did away with that quickly enough and shoved the door open with his shoulder. The motorbike stood in its usual space, gleaming even in the weak afternoon light. He went over to it and put a hand against the seat, his smile slipping into something a bit more genuine.

"You've never done anything like this before, right?" It wasn't a I know something you don't know sort of question; it was genuine. Sirius was a bit fuzzy as to the timing of Muggle inventions--and Jack had been to places in the future with televisions; that muddied it even more. "C'mere, I'll show you the

[cowboy_newsie]

Gratitude welled up in him as Sirius did nothing but retort, and Jack was sure to stay silent as they reached the garage; he didn't want to open his mouth to reply and ruin anything. Silence didn't reign for long, though, thank god, and Jack nodded as his flatmate spoke.

"You keep sayin' that," he drawled, "like it's somethin' inevitable. I'll be careful, Mister Black." He came to stand by the other boy, his fingers straying forward to brush against the leather seat. He could feel, despite himself, despite his skittishness and anger and panic, a quiet sort of thrill as he regarded the motorbike. Over the next few hours he was going to learn to fly; it was impossible to think that and not be a little excited. Even if he didn't actually get up in the air, even if it was just verbal lessons, that would be good enough.

"So how do I start?" he asked, and silently took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on this and only this. No Scarecrow, no torture, no Claire, no Edelweiss. Just flying and Sirius.

[atrumcanis]

"Careful, right," Sirius snorted, putting on a face of deep and mocking distrust, "careful. You'd better be, Mr. Kelly; you'd better treat her as you would treat your own child. Anything less is unacceptable."

The actual process of teaching was going to be a bit difficult. Sirius shifted, giving the motorbike a once-over before swinging onto it, straddling the seat without sitting down. "Right," he said, "first things first. It starts the same as a Muggle bike does, so first there's the fuel supply down here--" He leaned down towards the side of the bike, where the mechanics of the bike were exposed. "That's this little thinger here. And that's the choke, just there, so you let that out next. Then keys, then you can actually turn on the ignition

[cowboy_newsie]

Jack listened carefully as Sirius haphazardly walked him through how to start the bike, frowning, his eyes following every motion of his flatmate's hand. It all seemed rather complicated, true, and under that was the worry that he would misunderstand an instruction and send the bike straight into a wall. Despite that, he thought he understood it easily enough. And if this were anything else, any other subject, he would have boasted that he understood just fine and tried to wing it from there. But a sense of responsibility made him hesitate, frown and finally shake his head.

"Go through it again," he ordered, and waved his hand at the bike. "All o' it-- the gear shiftin' and steerin' and kickin' and clutches and all that. Slowly. I've never seen one o' these before," he added as a reminder, feeling the need to defend his slowness.

[atrumcanis]

That request for clarification was more comforting than anything else that Jack could have said. It really wasn't that Sirius didn't trust him, it was just... apprehension. He couldn't help it. But having a student who wanted to be quite certain that they did it properly--that was the highest and best sort of reassurance.

Sirius relaxed slightly, his shoulders dropping a bit. He shook out his hands, as if having just finished some complicated bit of detail work, and gave Jack a grin. "Right," he said, "slowly for slow students. I can manage that, I think--"

He crouched beside the bike this time, trying to remind himself to go slowly all the while. "First it's the fuel supply, there; you switch that on. Then you let out the choke, there--and then you put the keys in the ignition. Ease up on the clutch, that's on the handlebars, and kick it into neutral. That's where you kick, just there," he said, tapping it with his finger. "Once you've done that, you actually turn the keys, and then kick it into first gear, and that's you done

[cowboy_newsie]

"Mostly? I'm a genius," he retorted, but his heart wasn't in it; he was too busy looking over the bike, mentally going over Sirius's instructions in his mind. It was a lot easier this time around, and he could feel his confidence grow. He could, if needed, recite his friend's instructions back at him, and probably wouldn't crash the bike if Sirius let him on it. That was probably a sign that he could do this, Jack thought, or at least get the damn thing started.

Nodding firmly to himself, he offered the other boy half a smile-- shaky, and not as brilliant as his usual ones were, but a smile nonetheless. Coming forward, he raised an eyebrow at the other man, one hand straying to rest on the bike as he waited for permission. "But I got it, I think. Can I--?"

[atrumcanis]

Sirius made quite a production in return to that smile, giving Jack a thorough sort of once-over, chewing on his lower lip, scratching at his forehead with a thoughtful sort of air. Narrowing his eyes. Stalling for time, mainly, just to be a bit of a berk--but eventually, he slumped back, sitting fully on the floor with a huge sigh.

"You may, my son," he said magnanimously, waving a hand at the bike and shutting his eyes. "Go forth, and know it better, man. Go slowly, now, or else you'll ruin the gears and get overexcited--and don't do that last bit, the kicking it into first, or else you'll be out the door faster than even I can stop you."

[cowboy_newsie]

He nodded, still smiling gently, and straddled the bike, his heart pounding a little faster as he prepared to begin. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could feel a bit of quiet relief wash over him in response to the excitement; even if he was still aware of that tense anger coiling within his stomach, even if he was still skittish and fearful, at least it wasn't the dominant emotion within him. For now-- just for an hour or so-- he could allow himself to be happy and excited over this

[atrumcanis]

For his part, Sirius didn't say anything all through the process. He could have, but he didn't. If it had been James, he certainly would've made a smart remark--no, several smart remarks, about each and every mistake--though of course it would only have been to cover up his own anxiety.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Jack, he assured himself yet again, watching his friend go through the movements of starting the bike. It was just... Mistakes were painful, that was all, and seeing them made on his bike was needling. That was literal--seeing mistakes made him want to flinch, as if there were little needles sticking him--but he held back from vocalizing any of that, much as he wanted to. Not this time around

[cowboy_newsie]

He stared at Sirius, obviously surprised; he had thought the other boy would have been coming along with him. What if he found he couldn't steer? Or couldn't stop? Or-- or god, accidentally made it fly, or did any number of the thousand and one problems that were currently flooding his mind. Beneath the shock, he found he felt a small sense of pride; god only knew Sirius was anxious about his bike, so for him to simply open the door and invite Jack to go was a sign of trust the New Yorker hadn't quite expected.

"You're not comin' along?" he finally said, raising an eyebrow and offering a crooked half-grin. There were times-- not many, but occasions-- when Jack rather wished he could come out and say what he meant; it was difficult, playing a game of teasing and jokes in order to avoid a semi-serious subject. "Come on, what's the point if I'm drivin' by meself?"

[atrumcanis]

Sirius leaned against the open door with a degree of relaxation that he didn't entirely feel. He was quite a good actor when he wanted to be, of course, and this was a moment where that was rather useful.

"Don't go and have a lack of self-confidence now, mate," he said, folding his arms over his chest, "I'm trying to be magnanimous, put all my faith and trust and hope in you, like." But it was a small bit of comfort, too--much like Jack asking for clarification had been. It meant that he was taking it quite seriously (but of course he was; Sirius would expect no less--Jack was, after all, quite the decent sort).

And he was a bit too nervous to allow that to happen straight from the off. He could do a bit of magic and stop the bike, should it come to that, but it would be better not to have to do it at all. So Sirius heaved a theatrical sigh, flipping the front of his fringe out of his face and coming over to the back of the bike. "Right, right, shove up, would you, I'll come along. Everyone needs a wingman, I expect