A/N: When the Random Word Generator gives you the word "motorman", you don't really think of anything but Sirius Black and his infamous bike. And just because I'm a James/Sirius fan, the subtext points to it almost directly. However, you could also say that Sirius is just really screwed up in the head, which kind of works for the two of the assumptions. To be honest, though, I hate both quite passionately.

Like, almost as much as Luna loves being sane. Yeah. Pft, I'm so smart. I make great metaphors, don't I?

(Shut up. I know that was a simile.)

EDIT: Alright. My sleep-deprived self was apparently uncaring to future readers and just wanted a fic posted yesternight, and failed to clarify some things pertaining to this story. To answer by first two reviewers, I hereby nominate my not sleep-deprived self to explain. She has eaten a bunch of watermelon slices and watermelon seeds to duly prepare herself. She would like to say that she is deeply sorry. Kind of.

Qoheleth: My sleep-deprived self has originally created a different author's note, but on account of sheer falsehood had decided to delete it and rewrite a sloppier and shorter one. I would also like to clarify that, for this fic, I liked both assumptions of Sirius' implied characterization. The first one was that this is an ode to Sirius' undeniable love for James, and an ode to the ship as I am a shipper. The second pertains to non-shippers, and rather bluntly says that Sirius wasn't sane before Azkaban either. The idea of Sirius just being kind of wild, in thoughts and in actions, appealed to me just as much as the shipping, and that that assumption can be worked as a stand-alone or accompanied with the former.

And, well, I hate it as much as Luna loves being sane, which is to say I hate it as much as Hermione loves being wrong. Kind of Metaphorgotten.

Guest: This is, what I imagine, the prequel before the prequel. The 800 word long prequel written by J.K., which features James and Sirius being total loons, messing around in Muggle London, then shouting, "ELVENDORK, IT'S UNISEX," as they fly Sirius' bike up into the air and cackling madly. This is the part where Sirius is still trying to get James to ride the bike, and that no, it is not girly, it is the exact opposite. So I say that this is not in their Hogwarts years. I forgot to write the Common Room part in the Past Participle Tense, and accidentally wrote it in Past Tense. It could've been worse. I almost forgot that this story was written in Past Tense, and wrote it in Present Tense for the last few paragraphs before realizing my mistake. I have tried to correct it as much as I could.

I'm sorry it's so long. You can read the story now.

"No."

Sirius Black stared at his scowling, crossed-armed, very disapproving in the "Love, look, I really love you and all, but say one more perverted comment about my arse in public and I will castrate you" way a girlfriend might say to her extremely lewd boyfriend, still adorably scowling best mate. Whom he currently did not know as this was some really good bonding time for esteemed heterosexual life partners, and, dear Merlin, was James actually blushing?

He was. He was. Call up the high heavens and tell the angels to drop down and sing, because James Potter is blushing. Sirius grinned, although it was unknowingly the grin he sent to the girls he tried to pick up, and James sent him a harsh glare that would send Lucius Malfoy running for his peacocks. However, Sirius had known his best mate for ten years. He had seen James stammer after Evans, had seen him stumble in Sirius' own over-sized Hogwarts sweater, had woken up almost every morning in his entire life to hear his best mate singing in the bathroom horrendously and only in later years had it become only slightly endearing, he had seen him running after his boxers only in a towel, had watched him poke himself in the eye with his own glasses; and case in point, Sirius has seen and knows some things about James that he only hopes Lily would get to learn later, because damn, does she need to in the future.

Basically, he has seen much more ridiculous things from his best mate to be affected by his glare, which honestly wasn't that effective anyway because one, this was James and two, he was blushing.

"Aww," Sirius mockingly cooed, trying to imitate a baby voice, "isn't wittle Jamie-wamie adowable when he blushes?" He laughed out loud, and he carefully noticed that James twitched his lips a bit, as if he was trying not burst out laughing too. And, by Morgana and Merlin and Godric Gryffindor and James' Mum, he supposed that was kind of the magic of the thing.

However, James still didn't approve, and Sirius watched as the tiny almost smirk disappeared as quickly as it came. Damn.

"Pads," he said, still crossing his arms and still doing that you're-sleeping-on-the-couch-tonight look on his face. "No, dear Dumbledore no, I am not going to ride on the bike with you. If I'm going to fly with you, I can do it on my broom, because Sirius Black I adamantly refuse to hold on to your hips as we get on the bike you somehow won at a Muggle pub and have a romantic get-away as we fly into the moon directly above the streets of Muggle London."

He had a disturbingly straight face during the duration of which the last sentence was said, which honestly scared Sirius a bit more than Bellatrix could. She could try, and she would try, but anything she did would not be scarier than anything pertaining to a not-laughing James.

This was a pretty damn good example of a Not-Laughing James.

"Look, Prongs. Prongsy," Sirius laughed again, hoping to earn some points with his terrifyingly acting-like-a-prissy-goddamned-Slytherin best mate, and there honestly was a reason he calls James "Princess" at times, and it's not just because his room has a balcony. Kind of. "You don't have to hold to my hips. Just, I don't know, you were always better with words than me, I'm an action kind of bloke, you know? Anyway, just hold on to the back of the bike, or something. Seriously, what's wrong with holding on to me while we're both on a midnight cruise on my awesome bike? I know some girls who would kill for the opportunity—"

"That's kind of the problem, mate. 'Cause I'm not a bloody bird."

He pouted, leaning back so he could lie down on his bike. Which, okay, not a particularly good idea; but it added vulnerability points and he knew that James couldn't resist dogs, particularly the pouting, cute, adorable dog-puppies. Sirius liked to think he was included in that list. He wasn't, as Remus and Peter had told him over many a waste of breath, and as soon as he got over his sputters of disbelief and indignation, would reply that it was why he said he liked to think of it, and at one point James had walked in and sighed:

"Great, mate; I won't have to worry about breaking your heart." In which case the entire common room had laughed, which only had contained the self-proclaimed Marauders and the crackling fire that cold August night in sixth year. He had been pretty sure the fire rolled over on the floor in fits of giggles as well, if only because it kept on rising higher and higher until he didn't really know why they hadn't sent Hogwarts in a blaze and be sent to Azkaban for arson. Although he did knew that dear ole' Hoggy-Warty had charms to protect itself from that sort of accident, and that the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room tended to respond to the magic of its insiders, there was still the little doubt in his heart. And since he had drawn a chair to sit right next to the fire because he got pushed in the Black Lake by a few of Avery's goons that afternoon, he had fallen over and said chair exploded in white feathers.

Not one of Sirius' finest moments, that one.

You know, actually, come to think about it, neither was this.

When Sirius had been staring at James for five minutes with his puppy-dog eyes, he knew he had to play a different game. Which was kind of sad, actually. He wanted to see how long a person's resistance was against his pleading look and best pouty face. Then he'd throw in some tears by the seventh minute, and if James could last that long, then he would actually have to kiss him, just because James' hell born of a cousin, Marlene McKinnon, dared him to kiss the person who beat her record, which was seven minutes, forty-three seconds.

At which point Sirius kindly told her to try and beat her own record, and she kindly broke his nose.

James actually looked quite surprised at first when he stood up from his bike and walked over to where he stood, but he quickly regained his composure by the time Sirius had made it to half a meter in front of him. If possible, he sent Sirius a much more withering glare than the one when he blamed him for stealing Lily's knickers, and Remus actually sacrificed some of his chocolate to make him feel better.

"No," James whispered, almost mockingly.

"Yes," Sirius said, almost hungrily.

James put his hands into his Muggle jeans pockets and the right one emerged with a slightly squashed Cockroach Cluster, which he gave to Sirius. He batted it away, muttering to "give it to Peter, he's actually desperate enough to eat one", and James once again looked at him like he felt like telling him he'd be sleeping alone tonight, which was fairly ridiculous, because they didn't really live in the same flat anymore.

Which was kind of why he'd made an effort to win the bike, actually. He figured they needed just one last night of adolescence, because they hadn't really stopped being kids anyway.

For some reason, Sirius was thinking about this as he leaned in close to deal his final card. He put his lips right next to James' right ear, almost kissing it, and whispered, "You know, the bike comes with a sidecar."

James' hazel eyes widened, and he chuckled as the normally suave Potter was biting his lip and looking extremely uncomfortable. Sirius was this close to breaking the silence and just plain laughing when he finally said, "Fine. But just this once."

Sirius nodded with a grin so sharp it could cut any overlying sexual tension.

"You aren't going to regret this, Prongs. Promise."

Muggle policemen never really got over it. The name "Elvendork" still haunted over the remaining officers' dreams, to be honest.