Earning Respect
It should have been time lords and daleks.
Instead it was tomato juice and Jenny Joyce.
James still would not have traded it for the world.
Even if he had been drenched in layers of thick liquid, and his only suit was absolutely ruined, he'd had a great night. A night which turned on its head at the sound of a phone ringing. A phone call that had all the hallmarks of the start of a significant chapter in his life.
Subconsciously, he knew it would happen. He had a fair idea that Michelle knew that it would happen too, she'd confirmed as much later anyway. Erin never did have the greatest grasp on situational reality and John-Paul certainly wasn't the sort to keep his promises. That's why he'd held off on the convention until the very last minute. Mrs Quinn could not have left it any later but there was no doubt once the call had came in as to where his destination that night would be. It would be heart-breaking to see one of the girls not getting the prom night that they all deserved, and, in that context, Doctor Who meant nothing. Friendship. Just friendship.
Those were his thoughts as they pulled up to the Quinn residence. Michelle had accepted defeat with her own prom dates but despite her dress now being in a state, it didn't stop her from proudly marching off towards the pub. Clare had finally left Mae to her own devices and headed home herself. She had avoided the drenching and once her anger had resided, had left with a happy smile to her awaiting mother whose inquisitive looks at the state of some of the others ensured that all their families would know about it before they got home. Granda Joe sat behind the wheel after an entertaining evening of dancing with Orla, who looked so… Orla… sat in the passenger seat with her feet on the dashboard and a dip dab in her mouth. Erin and James sat in the back, both resting their heads on the windows of Joe's car as it came to an abrupt stop. They had initially been surprised by Joe's offer of a lift considering the state they would leave the upholstery in with their stained outfits. Joe reasoned his offer, sharing his concerns of allowing a 'Thin skinned English prick' to walk his granddaughter home on a cold night, afraid that James might freeze completely and leave Erin to fend for herself in the dark. James knew better than to complain and took his place behind Joe before they set off.
"Here we are". Joe announced
They all went to unbuckle their seatbelts but were stopped upon hearing Joe's gruff voice.
"Not you son". He turned his head back. "I'll drop ye off home".
"You can't drive to England Granda! What about the sea?". Orla reasoned
"No Orla love, to his Auntie's house not England". Joe spoke softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. Orla's gasp of understanding came shortly after.
"Thank you Sir". James added, catching Joe's nod in the mirror.
Orla proceeded to open the door and bundle herself out, almost falling directly onto the pathway in front of their house, legs tangled up in each other. No matter how many times he'd seen it, it still made James smile. His amusement was ended when he felt a touch on his left hand, that he had left on the spare seat in the middle. Looking down to his hand, he found Erin's right hand over it and quickly snapped up to find her staring at him intently. A stare that caused an odd fluctuation to his heartbeat…
"I just wanted to say thank ye again for takin' me".
Erin's words were of a true sincerity, her eyes and body language conveying it in the same way that the words that fell from her tongue had done.
"It was my pleasure".
He watched her lips curve into the most beautiful smile, one which he quickly reciprocated. Even drenched in tomato juice she had the most beautiful smile…
The cold feeling when she pulled her hand away was unlike any he'd experienced before. A feeling he could not understand. Like a machine that suddenly had a cog removed and the rest of the parts broke down and stopped working. They really were the best of friends for it to cause such an impact. James told himself that.
"Erin love, let your ma know I'll be back after I've dropped the wee English fella home". Joe told her as she began to shift out of the now open door.
"Aye Granda". Erin replied. "Night James".
"Night Erin".
Since when did either of us speak in that almost… breathy tone, He thought to himself in the back.
Orla was far too busy picking the bits of tomato out of Erin's hair to say anything to James and Erin closed the door, remonstrating to her cousin about leaving her hair alone, before they set off up the short path to the house. Granda Joe did not leave immediately; he would be sure they would get into the house before he went anywhere. A protective quality that James had come to respect between the barbs and insults that were often Joe's way of talking to him.
When Orla had waved a theatrical goodbye from the door, one which both men responded to with waves of their own, Joe relaxed and started the engine back up. It dawned on James that he would be alone with the fearsome Quinn patriarch for a longer period of time than he had ever been. There had only been a couple of moments where he had been left to fend for himself against Joe and even though he was an older gentleman, James could not help but feel slightly afraid of him.
Not a word passed between the two for the first couple of minutes of the journey to the Mallon household. A technique that James had picked up very quickly in Derry. Keeping his mouth shut. Therefore, it came as a shock when Joe broke the ice.
"You young English fellas are quiet shites aren't ya".
"Y-Yes I suppose so". He answered with a stutter.
"Your politicians should follow ye example. Bunch of spineless pricks".
James gently smirked a response at Joe's attack on his fellow Englishman. After all, he could hardly disagree with him.
"Listen son, there's a reason I'm taking ya home. I need to talk with you".
Oh shit. He should have known that the lift back would have come with a condition. He must have done something wrong, acted wrong or said something wrong and now he would cut apart by the man. Although Granda Joe's tone was far from menacing, it was enough to make James's head shoot up as his brain ticked over rapidly, a baritone of stomach retching for good measure. He caught Joe's glare in the mirror and prepared for his fate.
"It was class what you did for my Erin tonight son. Respect is hard to earn, especially for a quiet limey like you, but you've earned it from me so you have".
For a brief second James had wondered whether he had nodded off in the back. He could not quite believe what he was hearing.
I've earned Joe's respect. Christ even Gerry doesn't have that…
"Er..Erm… Thank you sir". He squirmed a startled response
"Joe will do fine son". There was a warmth in the old man's voice that James had never heard before towards… anyone really.
"Ye-Yes. Thank you then… Joe".
He put it down to tiredness that he thought he saw Joe smiling in the mirror. It could have only been tiredness that had either caused him to hallucinate or Granda to actually smile at him. Right? Right…
They soon arrived back at the Mallon residence and James unclipped his seatbelt straight away and being hit with the chilly night air as he stepped out the vehicle. Closing the door, he took a step over and found himself in front of the driver's window, turning to look down at Joe in his dapper cream suit, a thin smile on his face.
"Thank you for…". James could not find the words to finish the sentence, but it was clear Joe knew what he meant and that the young man wasn't being half-hearted.
"Night son". He nodded.
James nodded in return and started to make his way to the front door, reaching into his pocket for keys upon seeing all the lights off.
"James son".
Hearing his name, he turned around again to find Joe's stare unmoved from where he'd seen it a few moments before.
"Seven o'clock sharp in the mornin'".
A perplexed look appeared on the young man's face as he tried to think what plans he had, that Joe would know of, for a Sunday morning.
"Keep up will ya, you English shite. You and Erin owe me a clean pair of back seats you limey halfwit".
That was the Granda Joe that he had come to know during his time in Derry. James chided himself quietly for believing that there would be nothing expected in return for the lift. Respect did not keep Joe's car clean. But despite his words, there was no scowl from Joe or any further chastising. If anything, a smirk was on the old man's face. James nodded a graceful acceptance of the task he had been set and watched as Joe drove off back home.
It wasn't until a few minutes later, when James had begun to change for a wash, that he realised Joe had called him by his actual name and within an odd… familiarity like he had always said it and always would. Maybe it really was the start of a significant chapter of his life…
When Joe finally got back into the house, he was shattered. Many years had gone by since he had danced into the night like that and in those years, he had the advantage of youth on his side, something that he no longer had. For a few hours he felt like a young man again and that was nice, especially when he could spend it with his granddaughters. Even if one of them ended up covered in tomato juice.
"The wains asleep?". He whispered to Mary as he went to the Kitchen
Mary Quinn stood by the sink, clearly tired and no doubt thinking about how in the good lord's name she would get the stains out of Erin's Easter dress. Orla had opted to say in Erin's room and there hadn't been a sound out of either of them in the last five minutes.
"Aye, just me up". She confirmed in response
Joe took off his cream coloured suit jacket and wrapped it around one of the chairs at the dining table, unable to stifle a yawn as he did so.
"Was good of you to take James home like that da".
"Couldn't have the lad freezing himself out there could we, the wains would kick up a right fuss".
"Aye". Mary smiled at her father's rare, relaxed tone. "It was real class of him to do what he did for our Erin. I dread to think what we'd have done without the wee fella".
Joe could not prevent another yawn so grunted a reply along with it, reaching up to rub his eyes as the exhaustion arrived in a wave.
"Not so young now are ye". Mary dared to tease him
The way in which Joe snapped out of the tiredness was quite stunning. And Mary should have seen it coming.
"I don't need to be twenty feckin five to tell you to watch ye tongue young lady".
Backing off, Mary barely resisted rolling her eyes at her father's comments, but it had all been in good jest.
"Night da".
"Night Mary".
Joe was soon left alone stood by the dining table as Mary marched off upstairs to bed with a wide smile on her face. Joe too had a smile on his face. By some miracle of the good Lord himself, he found himself coming to like the wee English fella that he once considered either a gay or a rapist. James had proven to be neither and in fact just came across as the type of good lad that many parents and grandparents would come to welcome into the family with open arms.
A lad he still was though. A lad that still had a lot of toughening up to endure from him yet.