《kat_the_cat》

Engines roari g. Radios crackling. Mechanics shouting to each other over the car while media was waiting in front of the garage.

And somewhere in the middle of all that noise?

Jung Wooyoung.

McLaren’s newest driver.

Fast and reckless in a way that somehow still looked like it was deliberatly thought through. The paddock had already nicknamed him “trouble on tyres”

You called him something else in your head.

Dangerous.

Not because of the highspeed cars or because of the risk, but because every time he looked your way, your brain emptied like someone had flicked a switch.

You were just an intern.

Someone they had let out of the factory for once to gather experience on what it was like in a garage during raceweek.

Temporary and meant to go back to Woking on Monday.

Mostly organizing tool carts, checking tire temps, logging data sheets and staying out of the way.

At least you tried to do so.

Wooyoung made that part a little more difficult then you would like it to be.

“Yah, y/n!” he grinned across the garage, helmet tucked under his arm. “Smile for me, it makes the car faster.”

It didn’t and it was complete and utter bullshit.

But your heart sure did like hearing him think so.

And today during qualifying, where your nerves were already frazzled enough, it was nearly to much.

Nerves buzzed through the garage like electricity.

Yunho, calm as always and already in his car with his lid down, fingers tapping lightly against his steering wheel and his race engineer speaking quietly in his ear was ready to pull out into the Pitlane.

Wooyoung however was different.

His leg bouncing.

Fingers drumming.

Even before he sat in the rocketship.

Eyes flicking toward you every few seconds like you were the thing he needed to concentrate on. As if he wasn’t about to fight for the highest possible starting position.

You pretended to focus on the tablet in your hands.

“Wooyoung, out in thirty seconds,” the engineer said.

He rolled his shoulders, then tilted his head toward you.

You froze.

“Watch me?” he said, like it was a secret meant only for the two of you.

“I– I’m logging tire wear data, so I kind of have to.” you managed.

“So log how good I look while I go P1,” he winked, sliding his helmet on.

You nearly dropped the tablet.

He roared out of the pit lane.

And just like always, the world narrowed to his telemetry, radio rambling and the blur of papaya orange slicing through corners.

He was smooth. Aggressive. Laughing over the radio at one point when he nailed a sector.

By the time he rolled back into the garage, qualifying had gone better than anyone predicted.

P3. Not P1 but an acceptable finish considering that he almost kissed the wall multiple times in Turn 6.

Engineers clapped shoulders.

Then Wooyoung’s car stopped.

Engine off.

Silence; or as close as the garage ever got.

You stepped forward automatically with the wheel gun team, ready to help log temperatures, your job simple:

Professional.

Efficient.

Invisible.

Wooyoung pulled the helmet off.

Sweaty hair plastered to his forehead.

Eyes bright and a devastating smile if not to say develish.

And then he looked directly at you.

“Did I make you proud?” he asked, like the entire team wasn’t around and millions weren’t watching.

Your grip tightened on your clipboard. “I— it was a strong lap.”

He laughed softly. “That was not what I wanted to hear.”

You cleared your throat. “Data says you improved three tenths in Sector 2.”

“So… yes?” he teased.

Your cheeks heated. “Yes.”

He leaned back as the mechanics worked around him, still sitting in the cockpit and still not breaking eye contact.

“Good. I was driving for you.”

You stared.

“For the team! You mean the team.”

“No.”he said simply. “You.”

You almost dropped the clipboard.

That seemed to be a reoccurring thing when it came to the driver.

A mechanic coughed pointedly. “Wooyoung, out of the car please.”

He unbuckled, movements slow, dramatic — like he knew you were watching him jump out of the cockpit, muscles shifting under his race suit.

He planted his boots on the floor, stood, and came just a little too close.

Close enough that you could smell race fuel and sweat and something warm underneath.

“Are you blushing?” he asked under his breath.

“I- I’m hot. The garage is hot.”

He laughed, tilting his head, eyes shamelessly roaming your face. “Sure.”

You tried to step away. He matched you.

“Woo” Yunho said from behind him, amusement in his voice, “let the poor girl breathe.”

Wooyoung didn’t look away.

“Can’t. She’s to cute.”

Your heart hammered.

“I am literally just logging numbers…” you said weakly.

“And every time you’re near me, I go faster.”

“That’s… correlation, not causation.”

He smiled slow, lazy and unbelievably confident.

“You could test that theory. Stand next to me every race. For science.”

Your brain stalled.

You opened your mouth. Closed it.

He leaned in, dropping his voice so only you could hear.

“Also… you look adorable when you concentrate.” He shrugs and your heart skipped a beat.

He straightened like nothing happened, tugging off his gloves.

“Water?” he asked way to casually.

You handed him a bottle, trying not to touch his fingers.

You failed.

His hand brushed yours.

The corner of his mouth lifted.

Got you.

He took one sip, then held the bottle back toward you.

“Want some?”

“I’m fine.”

He shrugged, then leaned slightly closer again.

“You’re shaking.”

You WERE shaking.

“I’m not. I’m perfectly—” Fine.

A radio crackled. “Driver debrief in five.”

Yunho clapped Wooyoung’s shoulder. “Come on. Before the engineers think you’re flirting your way out of feedback again.”

Wooyoung didn’t move.

His eyes stayed on yo before he turned away, finally heading toward the engineers, but not before throwing one last look over his shoulder, eyes glitering, like he’d just won something much bigger than P3.

And you, with your clipboard, flushed cheeks, and racing heart, realized something terrifying:

You were in serious trouble.

Not because Wooyoung was fast.

Not because he was famous.

But because one smile from him and you forgot about the engines, the team, your internship, the entire world.

He had gotten out of the car but somehow