Chapter Text
Race weekend in Monaco is the worst weekend of the year.
There’s twenty-two races a season - twenty-two different, insane ways that you end up stressed out to the point of wanting to tear your hair out - yet something about this weekend in this place… it always ends up being a, well there’s no better phrase for it than shit show. You suppose this whole thing started here, and that’s what gives it some seasoned context, but still. You’d like to make it through Monaco weekend alive one of these years.
Walking into the villa where the teams are having their pre-race cocktail hour, held in the kind of opulent Monegasque architecture that still makes you uncomfortable, you decide your plan is to keep your head down and not talk to anyone - your family is included in the umbrella phrase of anyone - for the entire weekend—,
“Walking by without even saying hi?”
Okay, maybe you’ll make an exception.
Your best friend in the whole world is pretty much the only exception you’d make to this self imposed rule, which is odd, considering he’s going to be right in the thick of the drama as Ferrari’s poster boy. But you can’t ignore him. You turn back around and come face to face with Jaehyun Jeong, your longtime, greatest, closest friend, and the fact he’s already smiling and waiting for you, means you can’t help the smile in return. He takes a step forward in excitement and his right ankle wobbles a little under the pressure and maybe race weekend in Monaco won’t suck as much as you think it will.
“Well, well, if it isn’t old peg leg himself,” you tease as he walks over to your corner of the foyer, giving away the well-hidden limp.
Jaehyun peeks over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching and then his dimple presses into cheeky view with his retort, “I think you owe me at least a hug for the blatant insult, matey.”
You didn’t think you’d be able to laugh at all this weekend. But his face scrunches up in delight at his own joke and you can’t help the giggle and before you know it, you’re picking up the skirts of your poofy dress and running over and jumping right into Jaehyun’s arms. He picks you up so high your feet legitimately kick his knees as he lifts you up and twirls you around in the hug, and you squeeze him tight, tight, tight. Even though you’re so far from home, it feels just right to have his deep laugh in your ear and his hands across the ridiculous tie in your open back. When he puts you down, he misjudges your landing in his quest to make a face at you and the toe of your stiletto accidentally jams into his right foot.
His eyes flutter closed as an inadvertent groan of pain claws out of his mouth, “Ow! Fucking god, woman—,”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, are you okay!” you whine, bending over as fast as possible, not knowing what to do other than fan air in the direction of his leg. “Your poor foot, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, Jaehyunnnnnnnn.”
He grabs your arm before you can get upset and pulls you up so he can peek at you with such a teasing face and amend, “I’m kidding, doctor said one more week and I’m clear to start driving again.” He shakes out his leg to show you he isn’t wearing a brace anymore under his pants and explains, “Which like… timing didn’t exactly go well with Dad, but it is what it is.”
It’s not like he could’ve asked the driver who hit him in a London sidewalk to break his ankle during the offseason instead.
“Who’s racing the premier car instead this time?” you wonder. A necessary question, the outcome of this weekend pretty much hinges on how much drama this matchup is going to cause.
“Kun couldn’t be assed to try in the qualifiers. He’s not even here, he’s in Bali right now,” Jaehyun scoffs, rolling his eyes at his youngest older brother’s antics which are undoubtedly going to cause him trouble.
Ferrari is a family affair nowadays since all three Jeong brothers race for the team in some capacity. But if Jaehyun is injured and their mild mannered middle brother didn’t qualify, that means…
“Junmyeon?” you gasp, and Jaehyun just grimly nods. You purposefully bend backwards to look right at the door, keep going until you’re split in two, and then you joke through the burgeoning vertigo, “Should I leave now? Seriously?”
His oldest brother is your middle brother’s biggest rival, to an intensity and degree that you cannot even begin to explain to any normal human being. Just the prospect of the two of them going head to head in a race for the first time in forever is enough to have the dread billowing through your veins like straight poison.
“Honestly, I already looked and there’s a flight back to DC in about an hour. We could probably make it,” Jaehyun suggests with a shrug. Your brow furrows at the fact that he uses we when you’re the only guest here, he throws an arm around your neck and points right to the door like you’re being dumb. “Don’t think you’re going without me.”
It’s not just Minho and Junmyeon’s rivalry that you’re trying to avoid.
Your family and the Jeongs have been at each other’s throats for forever now and as you’ve gotten older things have only gotten worse. They argue about anything and everything, every inevitable interaction you have is stroked in the outline of Ferrari vs. Mercedes with the brothers at the helm. There’s been shouting, there’s been drama, there’s been loads of tears, and there’s even been blood two or three times on the race track, and somehow, both the youngest kids - both you and your best friend, because despite all of this Jaehyun is still your best friend - ended up on the outskirts of it. You don't get it. Every argument is so stupid, just grown people wasting time for no reason at all, and you know Jaehyun feels the same. It feels like you’re the only two smart enough to not care about whatever’s blowing up.
“Okay, so we’re going?” You hope he’s serious because nothing sounds better than getting on a plane and going home.
“We’re going,” Jaehyun affirms through a chuckle.
The two of you link elbows like you’re kids again and with purpose, the two of you sync your steps - yours awkward in your heels, his wobbly with his healed ankle - and you start to make your way through the loitering patrons towards the door of the foyer. You hear the whispers that come when you’re undoubtedly spotted and noticed by the F1 faithful that are hanging around, and the second you get the mental image of your dad finding out via the gossip mill you escaped with the face of Ferrari… the dread starts to billow back into your chest.
And just as soon as you start to get nervous, Jaehyun’s steps peter off into timid tiptoes. He catches your wrist slightly to stop you from going further and he lets out a deep, deep sigh, “Weeeeeeeee’re not going.” You reluctantly look up at him and nod, relieved that he’s feeling the exact same fears you are. He knocks his shoulder against yours as you execute the nicest three point pivot of your life, and as you walk back inside, he jokes, “I think our parents would literally perform a citizens’ arrest and throw us in jail if we did that. I would like to race at least one more time.”
That is not an exaggeration on his part.
“Not to mention I can’t go to jail,” you joke back. “Otherwise I’m going to get fired.”
You don’t think the Smithsonian Institution of the United States Government would give you a pass for getting arrested, even if it does happen in Europe.
Jaehyun pokes your cheek in amusement and takes the opportunity to tease you, “If you’re in jail, who else is going to present the extinct world to the droll tourist masses of DC in such a charming way?”
Somehow, the sarcastic way that your brothers insult your non-racing job behind your back - that you know about because Jaehyun tells you everything - doesn’t sound half as hurtful coming out in his deep, pretty voice. It sounds chock to the brim with admiration, which you know is true coming from him.
“Will you at least sit with me at dinner?” you grumble, knowing that this affair is about to be so unpleasant.
“Of course,” he agrees, knowing in turn that there’s strength in numbers. “If… you split your dessert with me.”
That’s your agreement, divide and conquer the tensions and dessert gets shared as a reward - but only if it’s chocolate. If it’s fruit, you get all of it and all of his, because he is such a picky baby.
You roll your eyes at him, yet when he tweaks your ear to force you to accept his deal, you cave right away, “Fine.”
With your arms still looped together, you and Jaehyun brace yourselves and go on your merry way to dinner, hoping that the fact that you have each other is going to be enough to make this not suck. He lifts his shoulder a gazillion times to knock your jaw on purpose, and you tickle his side where you can reach. There are certain times where he feels more like a brother to you than your real brothers, but then there are moments like this one, when he understands you from a pristine outside perspective and is there to support you in his own way, that you’re happy Jaehyun is only your best friend.
You lean your cheek into his bicep and sigh, “I missed you!”
Skipping the races in Miami and Barcelona caused you so much turmoil, but the museum needed you after the head tour guide went on maternity leave and you just needed a break from your family. Of course, the consequence was you went over an entire month without seeing each other, and this time, Jaehyun was so busy with his injury recovery you could barely speak over the phone, too. It sucked.
“I missed you, too! I’m serious about coming back to DC for a bit after this. I haven’t been home in so long,” he laments, holding you closer as he thinks of the home that hasn’t been his home since he moved here to Monaco at seventeen.
You think that he’s teasing you more than he should be.
“DC hasn’t been home for you in forever, pssh.” You knock his shoulder and he laughs at your petulance. He’s lived in Monaco for ten years, just like his brothers and parents, there’s nothing connecting him to your old home anymore and you remind him very clearly of that, “What, you only have one cousin left, right?”
He shrugs and reaches over to tug your ear again. And this time, when he smiles, you get the full glory of both his dimples through his cheeks, “You still live there, though, so. Will always feel like it a little.”
You’re wearing velvet, but the neckline of your dress is low enough that you know the thick fabric isn’t what sends a burst of heat straight through your chest.
OMG. When did shy Jaehyun Jeong learn how to flirt like that?
Your scoff echoes in the marble hallways of the villa, “How many girls have you practiced that line on.”
Right on cue, shy Jaehyun Jeong comes roaring out of him. He shoves you away with this cute, embarrassed grin done up on his mouth, and the very tip of his nose goes bright pink, turning him into a bashful Rudolph that doesn’t even answer your question.
“Wait! I have to show you!” He stops you in the middle of the hallway and changes the subject before you can press him about his love life, then spreads his arms and announces, “Prada is sponsoring me for the next season! What do you think about this look?”
He’s asking you to be honest, and you being honest equals admitting you’ve always found Jaehyun handsome, to the point where you think he’s handsome in whatever he wears. It’s hard not to, you’d have to be blind not to. To look at his golden honey hair and his charismatic yet glamorous dimples and the way he’s built so perfectly for his car, tall and muscled and divine and want to…. and okay, that is not! the point.
You take in the clothes he’s wearing - this fine-fitted suit in gold paisley fabric and matching shoes, the stitching done with what looks like threads of real gold metal, no shirt underneath (what?) and enough gold jewelry in the form of necklaces and bracelets and earrings you’re sure he weighs twenty pounds above average. He’s got his hair slicked back save for these strands hanging in his face around the sunglasses on his head, and… yes, he looks HOT. But he’s also smiling and bopping around in place in such excitement about the sponsorship that it doesn’t work with the aura he’s trying to portray.
“You look like a corncob!” you blurt the first thing you think of after taking in his ridiculous outfit and his ridiculous smile and everything, and because that doesn’t make sense, you just tack on, “You’re so cute!”
His jaw drops, he puts his hands on his hips and exclaims, “A corncob?! Hey!”
“Heyyyyyy, Jaehyun!”
The two of you turn to see the ever-present bunch of F1 groupies that show up at every race regardless of where it is in the world. Groupies is not a bad term, you like a lot of the girls and they’ve been so nice to you, but there’s no other way to describe them. Because, well…. they come to these races to try and sleep with drivers, and none is more desired than him. They wear the low cut gowns, show up at the parties, drink and flirt and hope he’ll give them a second glance. It’s a production that you’re impressed by and sometimes wish you were confident to take part in. They always try to get Jaehyun to bite.
And somehow, he never, ever, ever does.
“Hey, ladies! Nice to see you!” He’s just a polite young man who smiles and waves and gives them a head nod at most. Then he turns back to you with full frustration, not forgetting what you were talking about, “What do you mean, a corncob! This is like a legit thing! I’m legit!”
That heat in your chest crackles with such giddy delight.
“Of course you’re legit, you look like a little summer corncob,” you hum, pinching the softness of his cheek in apology for not letting go of the comparison. He stays all pouty and mad until you back down and admit, “You look very handsome, congratulations.”
He smiles from ear to ear and it feels like such a symmetrical response to the way your body is just beside itself in happiness.
“Okay, your turn,” he orders. “Show me.“
Ugh, well, there’s nothing that makes you feel more inadequate than showing off after the Son of Ferrari, and apparently now the Prince of Prada, did so. But Jaehyun looks at you with such intent you have no choice but to back up a few trembling steps in your heels and twirl around once, showing off the beautiful black velvet gown you packed with loving care for the trip here.
“It’s not Prada, and it’s certainly not designer, so don’t tell Mama,” you warn him, and he presses his lips shut in his smile so you’ll know he’ll keep it a secret. “This is a Mark find, styled by Mark, with details by Mark.”
You were only going to bring the gown, then your fashionista roommate just happened to have the perfect black scrunchie and showed you how to do this messy bun thing, and then he just managed to find matching black velvet gloves that went up to your elbows and made you feel like a princess, and what do you know! His mom had a diamond necklace that just went with it, too. So now you not only feel ridiculous, you dared to feel kind of pretty for once.
And the way Jaehyun’s lips part when he looks for a second too long, maybe you don’t feel ridiculous at all, period.
His tongue darts out to the corner of his mouth, and then he shakes his head and loops back to something else you mentioned, “How is that scoundrel?”
“He’s good! He was really sad he couldn’t make it here, really wanted to see you.” The two of them have been friends almost as long as the two of you. You and Mark have been a package deal since you were in high school, and when Jaehyun attached himself to your side, Mark was the happy consequence extra friend he got out of that. You’re kind of sad your other best friend wasn’t able to make it to round out the trio.
“Now I really have to come home. I’ve missed cuddle time,” Jaehyun sighs dramatically, making you giggle. You’re still giggling away when he walks over and puts his arm around your waist, leans in to whisper right into your hair before kissing you there, “You look so pretty, ma fleur.”
The hug, the compliment, the kiss, none of it is out of place. Whenever you’re in Europe those actions seems far more grandiose and appropriate than say, if you were still at home. It usually doesn’t do anything to you.
Yet you feel a timid blossom of bashfulness unfurl under the coaxing of that heated flame in your chest. Like you said, Jaehyun always says you’re pretty, always, but it never makes you feel like this.
“Just because you live in Monaco doesn’t mean you actually are European, loser,” you huff. Accepting the compliment feels strange, complimenting him back feels even stranger, and leaning up to kiss his cheek - what you really want to do - seems impossible.
“Oui, oui, mademoiselle,” Jaehyun drawls in his perfect French, a response designed to irritate. “Je peux t'emmener dîner un de ces jours?”
No matter how much your parents pestered you, you decided to never learn French, and thus have no idea what he says. You just hold his hand and grumble, “Whatever. Let’s go.”
You drag him the rest of the way down to the dinner as he laughs his heart out and babbles at you in increasingly more complicated French. You get to the doors of where you have to go into for dinner and he wipes his smile away and you make sure your dress is in place. You wait and you wait and you wait and you… let go of your hands. He pretends to cry and you pretend to faint against the wall, and then there’s no more fun to be had.
Because once you go inside, no one can know you’re still friends.
—
You go in first and he’ll follow in a few minutes, a practiced dance borne out of the the fact that there’s no way you’d let yourself get caught entering a pre-race dinner side by side with Jaehyun.
And for good reason.
The second you take a step towards the festivities you hear it, “You’re late.”
Holding your deep sigh in because there have been times you’ve been caught just breathing in annoyance and been scolded for it, you turn to face the rest of your family. Your dad in black and silver, your mom in a dramatic silver gown that shows more skin than you, your eldest brother in a suit to match your mom, and your middle brother in a midnight black suit as the man of the weekend. It’s a living shrine to everything Mercedes and you just… sigh. Here we go.
“Hi, Papa! I’m sorry, my plane was delayed back in DC!” You put on a smile and make an excuse and do not mention you would’ve been on time if you hadn’t been gallivanting about with Jaehyun in the hallway.
“Well, maybe you should’ve taken the jet with the rest of us,” he grumbles, reluctantly accepting your hug and side kiss when you badger him into it. He can’t be too mad at you, since you showed up like he asked.
Not to mention riding on an eight hour flight with your entire family is your personal version of hell.
“Now, now. We all know that Mini’s job is just as important as racing,” your mom chimes in as she comes over to give you a hug, though the paltry tone of voice she uses doesn’t back up her words whatsoever. She turns over her shoulder and hollers right at your oldest brother, “Min, say hello to your sister!”
Changmin comes dutifully walking up because he has no avenue to escape an order from your mother, and he bows rather funnily and at least makes you giggle. He sweeps you up in a hug and you feel genuine warmth in his greeting, “Hi. I missed you,” and while he’s still hugging you, he covers your ears so he can scream at the middle one, “Min, the baby’s here!”
Over your brother’s shoulder, you get a good look at Minho arguing with Junmyeon already, the two of them stuck in a storm of fury by the bar as Jaehyun slinks in the door when no one sees. He raises his eyebrows right at you and he goes straight for the appetizer display instead of to his family. At first you think Minho is going to ignore your brother’s call, but the second he hears you’re here, he drops the argument and races over to hug you. He sandwiches you up on the other side of Changmin, and the three of you wobble around like baby birds until your mom clears your throat and that’s enough.
“Ah, it’s been far too long, baby sister. Did you come because you missed us?” Minho teases, ever so slightly.
“I came because Papa asked me to keep you two under control,” you grumble, glancing at both of them with narrowed eyes. “Are you getting into altercations already?”
That is by far the most rhetorical question you’ve ever asked.
Minho sneers over to where the eldest Jeong is, and even though Junmeyon is not looking, he makes a threatening gesture his way, “I just need him to know that tomorrow isn’t going to change anything.”
Men are so annoying.
“Minho, come on. You two have been at this all season,” you sigh in frustration - he can never let anything go, and you don’t even know what the drama is besides losing to Junmyeon ever so often. Life happens! Get over it! You glance over at Changmin who is totally egging him on, and you stick a finger out at him, “You, too, you better not get involved, there’s a reason why you retired, and it wasn’t to antagonize the other teams.”
Changmin raced for Mercedes a loooong, long time ago and was good but not great. After a bad crash you’re lucky you’ve never seen, he retired to run the business side of your family’s operations with Mercedes alongside your dad. But every time you come to a Grand Prix, the Jeongs get his blood boiling one way or another and you have to beg him not to let his old concussion flare up.
Minho claps a hand on Changmin’s shoulder in a sign of unison, and then he growls, “If only I could’ve gotten my hands on the youngest this GP. They’d never try it with us again.”
You don’t get why the two oldest Jeongs have beef with the your brothers when they’ve all been beaten on the tracks by innocent little Jaehyun.
“Watch it,” you warn. “He’s still injured.”
The only reason you haven’t left Monaco yet is because Jaehyun isn’t racing in this Grand Prix due to his bum ankle. That means he can hang out with you for the rest of the time and you won’t have to deal with buffoons like this.
“Why do you always defend him?” Minho grumbles, glaring at an unawares Jaehyun holding his full appetizer plate for no reason at all. “Just because you’re the same age—,”
“I really wish you hadn’t been late, Mini, look at the only spots at the table left,” your mother sighs in exasperation as she gathers the family and begins proceeding towards the massive dinner arrangement the race organizers threw. “Please try to clean up your timeliness as you move forward.”
How is this your fault? They could’ve gotten seats an hour ago.
And now, ugh, all that's left is literally five open spots in direct proximity to where the Jeongs are sitting. You can already tell if you don’t do your best work this is not going to be good. The one open seat of contact is right by where Jaehyun is absolutely stuffing himself with mozzarella cheese, and it’s the same thing every time - the Jeongs put him there as a buffer because they know he can handle it.
You sigh like it’s a struggle for you to decide, and then you offer up,“I can do it, I’ll sit there and it’ll all be fine.”
You were going to sit next to him anyways.
“That would be nice if you could,” your mother sweetly accepts, pushing you in the front of the hoarde so that she can corral your brothers on either side of her, “Boys, best behavior,” and lastly, warn your scowling father, “Especially you.”
You walk over as a unified group, the representatives of Mercedes resplendent in black and silver, and the second Mr. Jeong looks up from the wine menu and nudges his wife to look, you could slice through the billowing tension with a knife. You keep your eyes trained on the seat that you’re going to fill, and how Jaehyun doesn’t look up yet kicks it out with his foot all the same. You really hope that you can pull it off this time.
Your best acting never fails to come into play here, the big, bight smile, and the fake, “Hi, Jaehyun! Good to see you!”
He glances up in surprise like you didn’t just have a private heart to heart out in the hall and echoes back with enthusiasm, “Hey! Long time no see!”
You always do this, you always play up being so freakin’ nice in front of your families in hopes that they’ll follow your lead. And you always, always play dumb - like you don’t spend the rest of your time outside of GP races speaking to and seeing each other every second you can. You sit down in the open chair and make sure that none of your body is touching a part of him… except under the table cloth where you sneak and lock your ankle around his. It started as an old trick you used to play, in case your families tried to tear you apart physically, and then you just... never stopped doing it.
When everyone is settled and there’s been no glass broken, you look over at Jaehyun’s parents and wave so happily, “Mr. and Mrs. Jeong, hello!”
In this whole ball of messed-up drama, you’re fairly confident Jaehyun’s mom and dad don’t dislike you. He told you once they told him it’s hard to, and you went with it. And even though they’re both resplendent in Ferrari gold - him in his jacket, her in her gown - they still manage polite smiles and greetings, “Hello, dear.”
Minho bristles beside you when you turn to the only other Jeong brother available and and wave at him too, “Junmyeon, hello! It’s so good to see you again!,” before acknowledging the missing part of their family. “I was sad to hear Kun wouldn’t be making it this time!”
“Hey,” Junmyeon mutters right at you, but that’s it. You have to work up to Junmyeon “not disliking” you. It’s a work in progress.
At least you have Jaehyun on your side like you thought. He glares at his brother so hard you’re afraid he’s going to hurt himself, and Junmyeon caves and mutters again, “How’s the museum job going?”
Aw, that means Jaehyun’s being talking about you.
“It’s great, thank you!” you answer, then you take a page right out of Jaehyun’s book and try to glare at your family - you don’t know how he was able to do it because it makes your eyebrows hurt - and then you clear your throat loudly, so that they know you mean business.
Your dad is the one that caves, he has to take the lead as the head of the family and can't be boorish here at the dinner table. He doesn’t do much, just dips his chin his competitor’s way and mutters, “Jeong. Hello.”
“Hello.” Mr. Jeong leaves it at that, not wanting to give up anything more.
The boys don’t say anything to each other, even though Jaehyun smiles at Minho and Changmin and you can tell that he wouldn’t mind having a conversation. When nothing happens, the mood of the table turns beyond awkward. You’ve done all you can, and if awkward is the best that you can come up with, well, you’ll struggle through it to prevent it from becoming anything worse.
Then, your mom turns to face his mother and sighs audibly so the other woman will hear, and like she’s ripping hair out, begins her own conversation, “I was wondering what you were going to wear to the gala and auction?”
Mrs. Jeong takes the baton, yet doesn’t miss the opportunity to shove some bragging in, “The whole family is being sponsored by Prada—,”
“I don’t think champagne is going to be enough for the rest of the night,” Jaehyun whispers right in your ear, pulling you away from the bickering into the real conversation he wants to have.
“Speak for yourself, I did my part,” you whisper back.
With baited breath and flitting eyes, the two of you wait for your mothers to continue holding the families apart, the rest of the men waiting around obediently because they dare not disrespect the matriarchs of either family. When no one on your side looks to you to fill the silence, and Jaehyun's brother doesn’t rope him into a stand off, both of you relax, and you feel his ankle bone tap yours.
“I snuck a peek at the menu. Chocolate soufflés for dessert!” he announces with a sly glint in his eye, happy that you’ll get to split and share spoons and everything... which means he’ll get an unfair portion of dessert.
“You’re lying,” you grumble. You were really looking forward to a summer peach tart you could have all to yourself.
“Maybe....." you swear it comes back again, the hint of flirting from earlier that you’ve never heard from Jaehyun before.
You serve the appetizers, then soup, then salad to his family first every time they arrive, and even though your family grumbles about it, you don’t listen or care. That’s the smallest gesture of politeness you can offer. And when the main entrees come, Jaehyun insists that you, and therefore your brothers and your parents, get the freshest cuts off the tableside steak in return. You eat and you drink and you stay tucked in your little corner together just making mindless small talk and hoping you get tipsy enough before people start fighting.
That means when you’re two glasses in and the lights are starting to feel rosy and warm, you let the small of your arm press against Jaehyun’s because everyone seems in a mellow mood.
“Okay, so can you let me in on any secrets? What are you opening that the public doesn’t know about? Aka why you came at the last minute and are dipping as soon as it’s over?” When Jaehyun murmurs it out of nowhere, you glance over at him in surprise, eyes all big and shocked since you hadn’t gotten a chance to tell him your big news yet. He reads your confusion and nods over to Minho, explaining how he overheard it, “Your brother has a big mouth.”
Ugh! That was supposed to be something special, just for Jaehyun and you!
Fine.
You glance around the table with worry in your veins, to make sure no one is listening to the private details you spilled only to your family. Jaehyun risks it, tweaks the corner of your elbow and teases, “No one in fucking Monaco is going to know what we’re talking about.”
He’s right, it just… it feels weird that you’re telling him when the Smithsonian hasn’t announced it yet.
You lean in as close as you can go and Jaehyun puts his arm on the chair behind you and you cover your mouth with your hand as you whisper right in his ear, “We’re getting a stegosaurus skeleton! Ah!”
It’s a good thing you do so, because it honestly feels like you just screamed it.
And he nearly spoils it when he yelps, “What! No way!,” before he realizes he’s way too loud. He dips his smiley, shocked face back in and whisper-yelps, “What, what, what, oh my god!”
“Isn’t it crazy! I saw them unloading the leg bones right before I came here and I almost died! Look at the picture!” You open your phone to the picture you sent to your family that Minho spilled the beans about - this extraordinarily dweeby picture you made your manager take of you, holding your thumb up in front of a dinosaur femur that is almost as tall as you are. You can’t wait to show him the rest of the pictures later on, you definitely took more than you should of the private exhibit.
“Let me book a ticket home right now!” he warbles with the same level of excitement you feel in your heart. He also pulls out his phone and goes right to his Ferrari airlines account, trying to find the earliest ticket back to DC he can.
“I know stegosaurus is your favorite dinosaur of all time, I remember when we saw that one in London!” you sigh as you tickle his neck fondly and get him to laugh.
Despite him being a cream of the crop racer, he wanted to study paleontology at university before he decided not to go, and you actually ended up studying that exact thing at Oxford. That was how you kept your friendship alive and strong over the years despite having very little in common otherwise—,
“Ow!” You get an elbow right in the ribs that knocks the wind out of you, and not a second later, you feel Jaehyun’s warm palm slip down to hold you there and protect you from whatever the hell it was…
You turn and it’s Minho who nearly impaled you on his elbow, and behind him Changmin is glaring too. You don’t understand what you did to deserve this, “What?”
Minho doesn’t even bother to hide his very pointed look your friend’s way, and he grunts, “What are you doing?”
“We’re talking,” you dignify him with the laziest, rudest answer possible.
“Yeah, right,” he snaps back.
“We’re literally catching up about my work, you nincompoop.” That’s as far as you take your insults because you’re in a public place, moreover, you’re in a public place that’s fancy. Instead, you reach over and pinch his arm so hard to sit him back in place, then your features screw up in frustration when you see he’s leaned over to chastise you through his food, “Eat your dinner and don’t get your tie in the soup, please. I know Mama must’ve ironed it herself since you’re so incompetent.”
Changmin’s jaw drops and you watch Minho visibly mouth what the fuck at you, and Jaehyun snickers so loudly you know that is just his attempt at holding his belly-shaking laughter in.
“Ouch,” he manages through a riotous round of chuckles that warms your chest from the inside out.
“He deserves it,” you grumble so that Minho can hear and stew even further, then you give up on trying to be appropriate and get even closer to Jaehyun so you can resume your conversation, “I’ll be so happy to see you at home, it’s been too long.”
Jaehyun’s face glows with a truly deep smile - on the same page as you about this, too - then he probes further into the details you skipped, “Has everything else been okay? Life, whatever? I can’t even remember the last time I saw you.”
You can’t even remember the last time you like, sat in the living room of your apartment and ordered takeout and watched a movie. You want to do that with him again.
You shrug and nod, “When these fools are leaving me alone, I can’t complain. Mark and I… yeah, we’re holding the fort down. I’m happy.”
It really feels like you’re living two lives - one at home where you give tours about cool dinosaur bones and live in a tiny apartment and don’t hang out with anyone except Mark and don't date. And one all over the world, where you’re photographed and known and exist in these opulent houses and hotel rooms and wear gowns on a daily basis and don’t date.
“Are you seeing anyone?” Jaehyun asks next, like he reads your mind.
It’s not out of place for him to ask this, either. You’ve dated people here and there the past ten years and you always talked to him about it, especially if you’re having issues. He was the only one who could give you the honest male perspective, and you did the exact same for him. He’s liked your boyfriends, you’ve liked his girlfriends - with notable exceptions on either end - so this is just another thing you talk about. This is normal.
“No, but the stegosaurus is a boy though, so maybe I will be seeing someone soon,” you joke, because honestly, if you don’t find anyone now you’re going to dedicate the next three years of your life to work before you turn thirty. You return the favor and ask, “Are you?,” before the waiters come out with the trays of absolutely decadent looking chocolate soufflé. You give up on the questions to poke Jaehyun and beg, “Ooooh, dessert! Jae, can you get me two, please!”
Like hell if you’re splitting this dessert unevenly. You’re going to be annoying and steal his just to make up for the past ten years of Grand Prix dinners.
“Of course! And nope!” he both agrees and answers at the same time, flagging the waitress down and giving her his most charming smile so she won’t notice he’s stealing extra. Then the rest comes out in her direction, so you barely hear it, “You kinda make it hard to!”
But the point is is that you do hear it.
You hear it exactly when Jaehyun says he isn’t seeing anyone because you make it hard to, and with one swooping stroke of his words you freeze in your seat. You feel like you live and you die about five hundred different love-struck lives.
“Um, what?” you whisper. And you’re not even sure if it’s a whisper because your heart is pounding so hard in your ears you can’t make out any normal sounds.
He turns back and sets down five different soufflés in front of you, proud little face turning into confusion now that you’re confused, “What?”
He literally doesn’t think twice about what he said - or may not even know what he said - and you feel every inch of your exposed skin rip apart into flames, spots covered up in the soft velvet beginning to flush with hot misunderstanding. He saying he’s not seeing anyone because he likes you?
“You said… you said….” You can’t get the phrase out, you just stare in his eyes and ask the trite, tiny question, “You think of me like that?”
Of course you had a little crush on Jaehyun. It was always there, considering it’s practically a rite of passage in F1 for any girl (or anyone!) involved - whether it be with Ferrari, Mercedes, the pit crews, fans, families, whoever - to have a crush on him. He was too charming and too handsome and too talented… and too nice. He was always the nicest one competing, you always thought so.
But you were too close to each other and knew too much and your families were too pretentious with their hatred and drew the boundaries too starkly. So you accepted the fact you were satisfied being best friends with Jaehyun and nothing else, just a guy and a girl that that saw each other every once in a while, had some common interests, and that was it.
That’s not it?
“Uh, duh,” he says so sarcastically, taking a spoon and biting into one of the soufflés like this isn’t some kind of shattering, earth-changing conversation for him. Which means that… that… that he’s thought this for a while, he’s had a lot of time to think about this to the point that he’s comfortable discussing it without freaking out.
Which doesn’t make sense.
You feel honest bewilderment take over despite the shy smile and you argue back, “Come on, we’ve been friends for forever. We’ve been friends for ten years!” You've never once had a hint he liked you beyond the kind of friendly, close relationship you established for yourselves. You’re not even making this up, there was not a shred of proof that Jaehyun Jeong had the outline of affection painted in his heart for you.
He pushes the dessert he stole for you your way and admits simply, “You think I didn’t have a crush on you for almost all that time?”
“Jaehyun,” you gasp.
You can’t believe he said it. Just like that, he had a crush on you.
“Ma fleur,” he gasps back in sweet, sweet mockery. He wriggles his face in your vision and the French hits you for once - you thought he added on the ma part because that’s how proper nouns came in the language or something. But you’re pretty sure it means my flower, as in, his flower. His elbow dips against yours, and you sense the first strains of worry in him when a corner of his mouth creases in a frown and he wonders, “You don’t think of me like that?”
Your heartbeat explodes in your chest and travels right up into your shaky, smitten response, “Yes, I do, but—,”
“But what?” he probes, eyes all wide and white, offsetting the pink billowing into his nose at your surprise, sudden confirmation of your feelings.
“But you can’t spring this on me, especially not here!” you whisper, looking around and making sure that no one on either side heard him confess his affection for you, “What if, what… what if—,”
What if!
That is not going to be good!
“Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart.” Jaehyun holds your knee under the table, blazing heat of his fingers tangible even through the thick velvet of your gown. Your entire body goes fuzzy with that and with the way he calls you a tender nickname he’s never used before. He gets all close to your ear and questions quietly, “Can we talk about it at least? I seem to have found myself with a lot of free time this weekend.”
And then he smiles so sweetly, dimples shining and genuine in his face, so you really have no other options for how you’re going to answer. He didn’t even need to do that to convince you.
“Yeah,” you whisper back.
You don’t know how no one at the table realizes you’re both grinning like fools.
“Okay,” he sighs in relief and smitten bliss, no longer hiding it under the guise of proper friendship. “Now, are we splitting the desserts or what?”
You do, you try every flavor of soufflé and you both decide you like the hazelnut best, but that’s not the best part of it. No. When your fingers twist up in your skirt and your napkin, longing yet confused, sure yet not, you find his hand still resting on your knee like that is the only place it wanted to sit. Without much hesitation or forethought, your fingers twist together in a perfect braid of surprise-bloomed affection.
It feels so different. But just… so perfect. How did you never do this before.
—
When dinner comes to an unfortunate end and all the teams get up to move over to the salon for drinks, you find yourself legitimately upset that you have to untangle ankles and hands and existences from Jaehyun. You have to face away from him as you get up from the table and linger by your seat as he exits first so that no one will know… that you have feelings for each other. Honestly, the people at dinner won’t be able to tell that anything is different, but you feel like a different person. You feel like every glowy light here in Monaco is foisting its shine over you.
As soon as you decide to stay behind with your family you really regret it, and it doesn’t just have to do with watching Jaehyun in his little gold suit limp down the hallway.
It's because you know exactly what’s going to happen. When as you get to the salon, you’re going to be kept away from him, and now that this strange, lovely portal is open between the two of your hearts, you want to talk about it. You need every detail out in the open so you can stop feeling like you’re about to take the greatest risk of your life and instead feel like this is the way it’s supposed to be. So you kind of slip away when your brothers aren’t looking and make a beeline towards where Jaehyun is walking.
“Jaehyun! Jae!” He turns as soon as you callsand the idiot starts walking backwards just so he can keep looking at you. You tilt your head away into one of these random, empty rooms, mouthing let’s go? and he smiles so widely you can see his dimples from here.
He takes a hop-skip to get over his limp and starts to walk right your way—,
“What did you say to me?!”
At the explosion of family drama - what had been kept at bay throughout dinner, or perhaps you were too caught up in your own little world to think much of it - Jaehyun races over as fast as he can go. The two of you turn to see Junmyeon and Minho toe to toe like they’re gearing up to race tonight and not tomorrow, or instead deciding to fight in a UFC match. You wish they had their helmets on from how closely they’re standing and staring at each other with absolute loathing in their eyes, because there's a non-zero chance violence is going to happen right now.
“I just said good luck at the race tomorrow,” Junmyeon sneers, not cracking once despite Minho’s attempts at getting him to flinch. "If you heard something else that’s your own fault.”
“That’s not what you meant though!” Changmin butts in from his stance outside the confrontation, not involved yet as involved as he wants to be.
“What did I fucking mean?!” Junmyeon hollers.
Minho only growls and takes another step in, that Junmyeon matches. You can hear Jaehyun’s annoyed sigh and you and he both take a step away from the confrontation, anticipating a head butt and some newtonian force sending Junmyeon flying back your way.
Mr. Jeong clears his throat and then raises his voice over everyone so that he can steer the confrontation away from disaster, “Lads, please settle down, it’s quite unbecoming of you to be fighting like this.”
“Easy enough for you to say when your son started it,” your dad cuts in with such a smooth sliver of dislike in his words. “Like father, like son.”
“Stop it,” you beg.
You don’t want one of the most magical nights of your life to devolve into more fighting.
“You shush,” your father orders, jamming a finger right in your face like you’re a participant in this fight, before he stares down Mr. Jeong and states as loudly as he can, so that everyone will know he means business, “We all know this is going to be settled tomorrow, if you can’t say it to my and my family’s face, at least wait until we’re out there.”
“Settled? You know this wouldn’t even be close if Jaehyun was racing,” Mrs. Jeong scoffs, throwing her hat in to the ring to defend her family.
You feel like you’re thrust under the microscope when all gazes turn your nervous best friend’s way and you’re right there beside him. You don’t step away and you don’t back down, because he deserves your support.
“You don’t know that! I’ve lost a lot!” Jaehyun deflects in the sweetest, smallest voice, smiling at everyone in his attempt to deflect. What his mom said is true, though. If the two clowns out there were racing against him, you’re sure the fight would not even be a fraction as dumb as it is now, because they know they would lose to him.
His father glares at him over everyone and orders, “Be quiet,” and all you hear is a squeak of agreement before Jaehyun leans in towards you.
Ugh, this all makes your heart hurt.
“But he’s not, so it’s this idiot against me, and I’d take those odds every damn day,” Minho scoffs with as much arrogance as he wants, before he stalks right over and grabs your arm, ripping you away from standing beside Jaehyun. “Mini, let’s go.”
Changmin comes quickly and grabs your other arm, and even though you give a good struggle, you’re wearing too much dress and the two of them are too strong and too determined to get you out of there. When Minho pivots on purpose to drag you past where you’re standing, he takes a curious step out of line, and you watch, in great fascinated horror, as he steps right on Jaehyun’s foot.
“Ow,” Jaehyun groans through immediate, sparking tears in his eyes. He bends over in a burst of agony at the contact with his injured leg, fingers shaking as he tries to grab it and make the pain go away. He keeps it to himself, to not upset the parents who are still bickering, but you hear him loud and clear, “My fucking foot was right there, dickhead.”
“Minho!” you exclaim in horror as you try to extricate yourself out of your brothers’ grasp to help your injured best friend, but are unable to because they won’t let you. In fact, their grips get even tighter.
“I couldn’t see! Your long-ass dress was in the way, Mini,” Minho manages to feign innocence and pin the blame on you all at once. He pulls a very caustic curtsy towards Jaehyun and simpers, “Oops, sorry, Jeong. Hope that didn’t set you back another week.”
You see undeniable fucking red at how much of a douchebag your brother is being.
But there’s nothing you can do because Changmin and MInho just grasp your gloved arms and continue to force their way to the salon. You glance over your shoulder and Jaehyun is still bowed in half trying to rub out the pain in his ankle. He glances up once, face just carved in worry as he watches you go, and you really hope that Jaehyun manages to see you mouth sorry.
Because even though your family isn’t, you really, really are.
tbc.