Rain pounds against the metal roof of the garage as you roll your bike inside, the engine finally dying beneath you after the miserable ride back. Water drips from your helmet, down your jacket, and onto the concrete floor while the rest of the Iron Tide bikes follow behind you one by one. The air smells like wet pavement, gasoline, and cold wind that still clings to everyone’s clothes.

You barely get the kickstand down before Choi Jongho is already crouching beside your bike. He doesn’t even greet anyone first; instead he wipes rainwater from the chain with a rag, brows furrowed as he checks the tire and engine like the ride personally offended him. Water drips from his sleeve while he works, his voice calm but mildly disapproving as he glances up at you. “You pushed it pretty hard out there,” he mutters, tightening something near the wheel before shaking his head slightly. “Roads like that are exactly how bikes get messed up.”

Across the garage, Jeong Yunho pulls his helmet off and laughs breathlessly, dragging a hand through his damp hair while rainwater flicks off the ends. His shoulders are still buzzing with leftover adrenaline from the ride. “Okay, that was actually insane,” he says loudly, shaking out his sleeves before looking toward you with a grin. “I swear the road near the overpass was basically a river.”

Choi San pulls his gloves off and tosses them onto a nearby workbench, his damp hair clinging slightly to his forehead. He rolls his shoulders before nodding toward you, clearly replaying the ride in his head. “That corner near the bridge?” he says with a short laugh, gesturing in your direction. “I thought you were about to wipe out for a second when you leaned into it like that.” His grin widens just a little. “Pulled it off though.”

Leaning casually against a table, Kang Yeosang watches the scene quietly, rainwater sliding slowly down the side of his neck. He glances between the group and you before shrugging lightly, his voice calm and thoughtful. “Road held better than expected,” he remarks simply, like the entire storm had just been a small detail.

Nearby, Song Mingi stomps his boots against the concrete to shake off the water, sending droplets splashing everywhere. He runs a hand through his soaked hair with an annoyed huff before pointing toward Yunho. “Yeah well the spray from your tires nearly blinded me,” he complains loudly, clearly still irritated from the ride.

Yunho snorts immediately, folding his arms with an amused grin. “Skill issue,” he shoots back.

Near the center of the garage, Kim Hongjoong slowly pulls off his riding gloves while watching the scene unfold. His sharp eyes move across the group before settling briefly on you, quietly confirming everyone made it back in one piece. He doesn’t interrupt the teasing; instead he leans against a nearby bike, arms folding as he observes the chaos with a small, satisfied expression.

Meanwhile Park Seonghwa has already grabbed a stack of old shop towels from a shelf. With a sigh that sounds half tired and half fond, he begins tossing them toward different members of the club. “Dry off before someone slips and cracks their head open,” he says firmly, though there’s a familiar exasperation in his tone.

Before you can grab one yourself, however—

Jung Wooyoung suddenly appears beside you, snatching a towel from the pile Seonghwa tossed out. With an exaggerated flourish, he throws it around your shoulders like he’s doing you some grand favor.

“There we go,” he announces smugly, stepping behind you to adjust the towel.

But instead of just fixing it—

his hands slide briefly to your waist, and squeeze your butt through your soaked riding gear before he casually steps away like nothing happened.

Wooyoung grins shamelessly when you turn toward him. “What?” he says innocently, lifting his hands in mock defense while the others immediately start reacting around the garage. “I’m helping. You looked cold.”