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It was becoming a painful display to watch - Hammond forcing a dilapidating 1985 Yugo GV around the Top Gear testing track that is - that Jeremy could hardly keep a straight face; he practically doubled-over laughing as he spotted the rear bumper fall off and clatter around the track in the car’s wake. James, standing nearby, found it equally amusing, but kept his laughter quelled as Hammond slowly rolled to a stop past the finish line.
The door groaned terribly as the youngest of the three stumbled from the beige vehicle and gently shut the door behind him, though one of the hinges promptly snapped and left the aluminum door hanging halfway off of the car.
The Stig’s shoulders rose and sagged as he sighed quietly; shaking his head slowly in shame because he could not believe a car like that existed.
Hammond stuttered around his words for a moment, but settled on yelling “This car is a bloody disgrace!” and storming off past Jeremy, who was still choking on his own laughter where he stood.
“Oh come now, I know it’s awful but-“ James did not get to finish as Jeremy composed himself enough to speak.
“It’s absolutely dreadful! James, not even you could put a positive spin on this piece of rubbish!” Jeremy admitted through bursts of giggling.
As Hammond skulked over by the abused coffee machine, and Jeremy tried to calm himself down, James stepped up to the Yugo and looked it over with a scrutinous eye. True it was a god awful car, and just as Clarkson had so accurately blurted out only moments prior, James could not find anything good to say about it; that is other than it was “a classic”, and “a piece of history”, which did not fly in the real world.
Gently, he placed a hand on the roof of the beige Yugo, letting out an amused sigh, “I’m sure someone likes you…somewhere.” He added with little legitimacy in his tone. With one foot he nudged the rear tire, noting just how low the pressure was and how shoddy the handbrake was as he actually moved the tire; no wonder Hammond nearly spun out when he reached the Hammerhead.
Stig quirked his head, any facial expression hidden behind his the pristine white helmet. Intrigued, he also walked forward and reached the car, more curious about what on Earth May was doing and why he would choose to have such a tame attitude towards the, admittedly, terrible vehicle whilst his co-presenters would not even give the car the time of day.
Though he supposed it was not completely unnatural for James to be the most fair-minded of the three, in fact along with being Captain Slow, acting as the happy medium was what he was renowned for amongst the crew. And while The Stig himself could find nothing in the car that was even worth being fair about, he admired Jame’s for being able to do just that.
“Help me move it back inside then?” James called, pulling the tame racing drive from his thoughts. After a moment he nodded; he wedged his arm and shoulder into the open window and placed his other hand on the hood, as did May, and they began to wheel the car towards the nearest carpark. Normally without anything to think about, The Stig began paying the slightest bit attention to the other man’s standard ramblings.
Something about the Yugo in comparison to a ’85 Mercedes, something else about the gear changes in his own Ferrari 430, and then he chuckled as he mentioned Jeremy and Hammond’s most recent argument while placing new cars on the Cool Wall; nothing that Stig found particularly interesting. However, he found Captain Slow’s company to be, he hesitated to think, calming and even pleasant on his better days; and there was no doubt, despite the negatives, Stig acknowledged how incisive and downright intelligent James was.
And it was not just on occasion that he thought so. Every passing day, whilst filming or just hanging around having a cuppa, James proved to be quite brilliant in his own way.
“-wouldn’t you agree?” Again the inquisitive tone drew his attention back to the conversation he had been thoroughly ignoring for the most part, and he found James staring at him from the other side of the Yugo with his head tilted at an aggravatingly slight angle. The Stig is happy when the Top Gear presenter ignores his silence, not even expecting a vocal answer; no one ever did, that was kind of the entire point.
However, he felt the slightest bit of guilt when the other turned his head to look at the ground silently. The Stig knew that James knew not to expect an answer, he’d worked with two other Stigs before him that were also not entirely keen on communicating; but he was beginning to understand that not all humans took so lightly to his whole ’no talking’ thing.
“Anyway, so if I remember, and given Jezza actually read the schedule correctly, you’re going to be driving a particularly nice Porsche later today correct? A Carrera S.” He pointed out with a slight grin.
There were a few lingering moments of silence, and May expected as much and was content to leave well enough alone. “Yes…”
At first, James recoiled and looked around, dipped his head down to peer into the Yugo to make sure Hammond hadn’t left his bloody iphone in there or something along those lines, and it was not until a few long seconds later that he flipped his greying locks from in front of his eyes and gaped at The Stig. He was gob-smacked and confused for a good minute and did not register that they had finally made it into the garage.
The Stig began to walk away, cooly and without a word as per the norm, and something finally roused James enough to speak out, “I didn’t think you could…would ever talk.” He admitted hesitantly, keeping his distance from the racing driver. “Least of all to me.” He added as a second thought.
The impassable blue-black of The Stig’s visor turned to greet the shocked ice-blue irises that stared at him in doubt and awe. “Really? Because I Was Thinking You Were The Only One I Would Waste My Time Talking To.” And with that he turned and evenly strode from the garage, back to the portakabin or wherever the hell he goes before setting lap times for Porsches.
James May, being James May, does not let the confrontation phase him outwardly for very long, and eagerly returns to the studio to grab a cuppa before he has to go on camera to bicker with Hammond, or say something demeaning to Jeremy along the lines of ”You are an absolute blubbering idiot Clarkson.”
Although the next day, as he forces himself to remain silent as Jeremy and Richard argue about just where to place the Porsche Carrera S on the Cool-Wall, May could not keep from thinking about what had transpired the previous afternoon. Of course, in the limited time he’d been standing there he’d determined that trying to pressure The Stig into ’speaking’ again and answering his questions was uncalled for; though nonetheless an appealing option.
Or rather, whatever he could, in sound-mind, call the sounds that manifested themselves as words from The Stig; whatever it was, had not sounded like a voice, and more like one of the vocal simulators off the internet that Jeremy has such a giddy time faffing about with. Regardless, it was something Jame’s had not expected, and was no-doubt confused by.
_._
“You know you could have bloody well said something,” James began when he had, finally after a few long days, gotten The Stig isolated from the others. The vacant visor turned towards him, somewhat draining Captain Ambition of all his confidence. “Perhaps something like ’Oh yeah, just so you know James, I won’t actually be talking anymore after this. I’ve just decided to take after Jezza and be an absolute arse about this one thing that is actually pretty important.’”
On his own part, The Stig was surprised at the sudden confrontation, not used to anyone, let alone James, talking to him in such a manner; however he did find the comment about Clarkson to be quite amusing, and notably true. He decided to remain quiet, still not crazy about talking; though this did not seem to impress May, who seemed more disappointed than anything. “Fine you pilock, don’t talk to me, I suppose it’s your own kind of Stig-ish practical joke, so well done then.
You’re going to need to drive that Aston later, by the way. I’ll see you on the track in an hour.” James stated firmly, casting his gaze to the door and away from the other.
The Stig had never heard him talk in such a huffy manner before, and worked out that he must have hit a sore nerve within the host. “I Was Not Trying To Be Aggravating James,” Stig began, “I Am Sorry. I Am Not Too Fond Of Talking. Not Even To You.” He admitted quietly, all of his prior reserves still strongly embedded in his mind as he went against them all.
James’ eyes were wide in surprise, as they had been a few days prior, and he was frozen in place. For the first time in a long time, The Stig felt the slightest bit awkward standing there in complete silence; silence that has been so often his comfort. And for a few arduous moments, he thought May would be even more upset with him; and that, if he was honest with himself, was something he did not want. He was only trying to open up more to the one bearable person on Top Gear, and so far it had only gotten said person annoyed at him.
Of course, Stig admitted to himself, that’s all outward-ness ever got him in the past, so why should this instance be in any way particularly different; he mentally kicked himself for thinking so…hopefully.
“Right then.”
That, along with other things, was the last pair of words The Stig foresaw James saying at that particular moment: he cocked his head in confusion and stared blankly at the Top Gear host.
“I suppose it was not fair of me to be so cross,” James began with a somewhat apologetic grin. Such A Pleasant Human… Stig thought adoringly. “No need to talk unless you want to Stiggy ol’ pal,” He chuckled nervously, raising his right hand to rub the back of his neck. “And I’m sorry.” He mumbled before taking a few quick steps towards the door of the portakabin.
Before at any given time, The Stig had never wanted to make any contact with others, except for the occasional punch to Hammond’s arm when he was being a little git; so he legitimately surprised himself when he reached out and carefully grabbed May’s arm, keeping him from exiting. The host looked at the tame racing driver funnily, still looking bewildered, and now even a bit frightened.
Stig quickly corrected himself and released his arm, taking a step back to give him his personal space; he thought for a moment about what to say that could correctly relay what he wanted to get out, “No, Do Not Apologize. It Was My Own Bluster.” Stig admitted, gesturing to himself as he spoke, “I-” He hesitated, trying not to stare directly at James and his piercing blue eyes (though he knew James could not tell what he was looking at, it was the aspect that was causing his nerves to rile). “I Have Been Meaning To…Talk, To You More. You Seem…Very Intelligent.”
James rapidly understood how meaningful that was, especially coming from The Stig, and he tried not to show how incredibly flustered the simple gesture made him. “Well Stig, that’s fantastic to hear; albeit a spot unexpected.” He looked at the racing driver and smiled. A Brilliant Smile At That…
“Thank you.” James murmured somewhat bashfully before turning towards the portakabin door again. He hesitated right before pulling the latch of the door open, turning his head just enough to look at his companion. “I guess I’ll talk to you later then, yeah?” Again he smiled, and stepped out into the warm Spring air, shutting the door calmly behind him.
The slightest bit flustered himself, The Stig turned back towards the counter and rested his hands on the scuffed white surface, that matched his racing suit almost perfectly. James really is fantastic… He thought, with a mental kick to his behind for thinking such things. Brilliant, even.