Formula 1 One-Shots (II) REQUESTS CLOSED!

Mick Schumacher [PR]

A/N Wished by Meghna-1997 I hope you like it!

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WORDS: 1998

Request: She is his PR-Agent and they like each other a lot but are too shy to admit. After an accident they confess feelings. 
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"Fucking traffic." I curse under my breath, glancing at the time, which is displayed from my car, nearly mocking me with the time ticking and ticking while my car barely moves forward. Every time the traffic light turns green only a few cars manage to get over the crossing before it is red again for an endless number of minutes.

"Mick is going to kill me when I am late." I groan and rub with my hand's trough my face. Mick hates when people are not punctual and especially when we have an appointment which is important. He has an interview in around five minutes and since I am his PR manager people expect me to be there as well.

Finally, I manage to get in front of the long queue of cars and impatiently tap my fingers on the steering wheel, watching the traffic light closely while I try to figure out an explanation for Mick why exactly I am late today. I already know he isn't going to be satisfied no matter what my explanation or excuse will be.

When the light turns green, I sight in relief, finally. I accelerate my car but just when I am in the middle of the crossing my car gets hit into the side. Squeaking tires is the last thing I hear before my head meets the airbag and I pass out.

There is a ringing in my ears when I slowly get back to reality and I don't know what happened before. My body is aching, and I blink a few times, trying to clear my vision, before spotting someone's face. The lips of the persons move but I do not understand him. In my ears there is still this squeaking tone before it suddenly fades, and I am aware of the sounds around me again.

"Do you hear me?" The person, probably a paramedic asks me, and I slowly nod my head, not trusting my voice even though the movement strengthened the pounding behind my temple. I groan lowly but I can't bring myself to move my arm to press it onto the pounding spot to ease the pain a bit.

"Okay, you had a car crash, and we need to get you out of the car." The paramedic informs me, and I slowly progress what happened. Somebody crashed into my car but what is even more important I was on my way to an appointment with Mick. Mick, the German is probably furious because I didn't show up and I already fear his reaction. He rarely gets angry but when he is you don't want to be near him.

"Mick..." I mumble, trying to search for my phone but when I want to lift my arm to pat on the passenger seat a sharp pain shoots from my wrist up my arm, making me groan and I let my hand loosely hang to my side again.

"Was he with you in the car?" The paramedic asks me, worried that someone was with me and that they need to search for someone, probably heavy injured. He already looks around, but I can calm him down with my next words.