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Jonas is characterized by his inimitable reverence, not a day goes by without somebody pointing out his immovable respect. He navigates life with quiet assurance that he can indeed be great without sacrificing his opponents integrity or his own.
And it’s exactly what Tadej despises most about him. Not because he doesn’t believe that sportsmanship is a great quality in an athlete but because he’s so sick of it. There’s no pleasure in beating down a rival two summers in a row only to get naught in return. Not one exhaustion enabled rant, not one ounce of anger directed towards him.
Tadej wants to see Jonas angry, he has dreamt of it. He has seen flickers of something in Jonas’ eyes, the possibility of anger.
He needs to see a strong ugly emotion rake through Jonas’ body, maybe out of jealousy or maybe and most probably because of misplaced curiosity.
Tadej has tried, desperately, he’s sacrificed his well-crafted image solely to get a rise out of Jonas, he’s screamed “fuck you” without really meaning it, very aware it would be picked up by lingering cameras.
And yet, Jonas always meets him with quiet respect he isn’t sure he earned. He knows he didn’t earn. Even after an explosive race, when journalists fish for the exact same emotion Tadej is, he never flinches. He chuckles, sharp teeth appearing behind his lips and dismisses the claim that they might be on bad terms, like the thought is absurd.
Surprisingly, Tadej isn’t part of the people that claim that Jonas is a robot that doesn’t feel. Jonas feels alright, Tadej has seen him cry, of pain or of joy. But Tadej craves to see him break, he wants to see an emotion so strong it puts him off-kilter. He wants to see what Jonas Vingegaard is like when he can hardly control himself.
He’s seen glimpses of it, he can count them on one hand; Tour de France 2024 Stage 11, the time-trial in ‘23 and perhaps after his crash in Itzulia.
In fact, the latter is interesting, Tadej would never admit it to another soul but the crash he watched happen shook him so bad he didn’t speak to anyone for two days. And unbeknownst to anyone, he called Jonas, heard his voice break over the phone, felt the quiet vacillation between Jonas breaking completely and desperately trying to keep it together and keep face for Tadej.
Jonas doesn’t want to break in front of Tadej, and Jonas breaking is all Tadej wants to see.
In that call, Jonas had shut down Tadej and his concerns completely through a worn down, rauque voice.
“Tadej please stop.” He’d said, softly, polite, even though he had every right to scream and thrash, Tadej wanted to be screamed at, but he didn’t push, muttering a quiet apology Jonas had hung up.
Tadej never called back.
In his dreams, Jonas shoves his shoulder and tells him he’s being an inconsiderate imbecile. Real life Jonas is quiet and resigned when Tadej bashes through his limits recklessly.
He’d talked about it, with a therapist, this need to face an explosive emotion from a rival. The words ‘unhealthy’ and ‘obsessive’ were thrown around. Tadej never went back, never spoke of it with anyone again. Too scared of what they’ll think when he admits he’s craving anger.
What makes Jonas Vingegaard tick?
“Tadej Pogacar” most would answer, Tadej used to be one of those people, now, he isn’t so sure anymore. He isn’t sure anyone can make him tick.
The more he thinks about it, the more it frustrates him, that he isn’t able to give himself or the public what they want. Jonas has a facade, a titanium serenity disguised as porcelain white skin and Tadej is trying to take a sword to it. It doesn’t budge, it leaves scratches but it doesn’t break.
Respite comes between a few too many glasses of champagne at a party Tadej can’t remember who hosted but he knew Jonas was there. That knowledge to a slightly tipsy mind was enough for him to act rash.
Jonas, slumped in a chair against a wall, shirt unbuttoned, like it had lived its own party. His face, ever so serene, betrays nothing, his fingers playing with the rim of his glass.
He doesn’t flinch when Tadej rather disgracefully throws himself in the chair next to him. He doesn’t ever look at him, not until Tadej finishes his first sentence.
“Jonas, Jonas, Jonas…” Tadej sighs like the start to a bad villain monologue in a cartoon.
Jonas’ head slightly tilts towards him.
“Tadej.” He answers, calm, collected, like things are supposed to be.
“You elude me Jonas.” Tadej continues in a drawl. Jonas properly angles himself towards him. To better listen.
“What will it take for you to feel something?” He muses, never meeting Jonas’ eye, this monologue could be one Tadej told to the walls of his empty room. He’s saying it because it’s easy to repeat questions you’ve memorized.
Jonas frowns slightly, face stern. “I assure you, I feel alright.”
“No I know you do— What I mean is when will you start feeling things like no one’s watching, like it might be the last thing you ever do.” Tadej asks, with more conviction but his voice is lower and his eyes are transfixed on Jonas’.
Tadej expects a scowl or a cold dismissal but he doesn’t get the pleasure. Instead the frown drops from Jonas’ face replaced by a deceptively neutral expression. The corner of his lips flitting up for half a second into an amused grin. He can’t tell right now but that demeanor, that single quirk of lips marks the exact moment Tadej lost the upper hand. He doesn’t have anything in hand anymore, it’s as if he’s shown each and every one of his cards to Jonas in unnecessary detail and then threw them out the window. That’s what that smirk meant.
“I do feel like that from time to time,” he says with a wistful tone. “When no one’s watching, like you said.” Jonas has set his glass aside, now his sole focus on Tadej.
“Well sure, but never for me.” Tadej answers too fast, too vulnerable, the too expensive champagne sitting on his reason.
Jonas' face clicks, a small well disguised surprise appearing before blending into his complexion.
“Is that what you want?” Jonas asks. Something small ignites behind his eyes. “For me to feel something for you?”
Tadej hates it, he wants to backtrack, take it all back, even the champagne glasses.
“Well when you put—“
“I do,” Jonas cuts through his justification. The cloudiness in Tadej’s head settles. It’s quiet, too quiet for a party. “Feel things for you exclusively.” Jonas continues without real fear or apprehension.
His eyes are blue but tainted with something. Not defeat or vulnerability, he hasn’t given over his hand, he hasn’t allowed Tadej to even consider playing. No, in his eyes something dangerous is brewing.
Jonas breaks off the eye contact, looking at the room full of people mingling, basking in the hypocrisy of an overly fancy gala that serves too strong champagne.
“I find that hard to believe.” Tadej mutters as he watches someone tip over a vase but save it right before it hits the ground.
“Why would I lie?” Jonas retaliates.
To further humiliate me. To gain the upper hand. To prove something. For a good laugh.
Tadej sighs. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Someone in the back of the room has an obnoxiously loud laugh. Jonas wipes something away from his pant leg.
“As you wish.” Jonas mutters and gets up, takes a few strides, starts to leave. Tadej stops looking at him. Looks down at his hands, pretends to be busy, in case Jonas looks back at him.
Jonas does stop and look at him. “You coming?” He asks as if Tadej was supposed to guess that from absolutely zero context clues.
Tadej looks at him, Jonas’ gaze brushes over him. There’s something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. It's a novelty to recognise something unrecognisable in his eyes.
Tadej gets up.
He follows Jonas closely as they slip out of the room, nobody that matters notices anything. The halls are quiet, only the distant thump of the music still rhythmically breaking the tranquility.
Only when Jonas starts leading him down a second hallway does he realise he has no idea where they’re going and to do what. For a split second he considers asking Jonas but he never does. Curiosity gets the best of him.
A few more hallways later where Tadej is so sure they’ve already been which means Jonas is lost, they’re in an elevator. The doors slide close, Jonas presses the third floor.
“Where are we going?" Tadej finally asks, the tension suffocating him. Jonas doesn’t answer.
“Because I’ve never been here and I don’t think you have eith—“
Jonas slams down on the stop button, the elevator stalls. Tadej swallows dryly, looks at Jonas.
“If you’re planning to murder me to prove you’re capable of strong feelings—“ Tadej rambles, that’s what they were doing, no? Looking for Jonas’ emotions, he has a hard time believing he keeps them in this fancy hotel, or not hotel, Tadej still doesn’t know where he exactly is.
Jonas scoffs a little bit. “You want emotion, I’ll show you.” He says through a grin, lazily leaning against the elevator wall.
Tadej raises an eyebrow. “You trust me?” Jonas asks quietly. Tadej doesn’t have to think about the answer.
“Of course I trust you.” He says the words lighter than what they actually mean. He says it through a disinterested tone as if this trust, earned through a rivalry and stilted conversations, meant nothing.
Tadej is about to press the button to make the elevator go again when Jonas stops him, he takes him by the wrist, pulls a bit, Tadej lets himself be led.
And for the first time this evening, a flicker of uncertainty crosses Jonas’ face. It’s gone as fast as it arrived.
Then a hand on the junction between his jaw and his neck. A press of lips, Jonas is kissing him.
Oh.
Tadej kisses back.
It’s slow, gentle, controlled. The hand around his wrist loosens, he places it on his waist. Tadej has rarely kissed someone and it felt like this.
Jonas lets him go, too quick, not enough. He looks at Tadej slowly, calculating, hand still loosely resting on his hip. Tadej can only imagine what he looks like, red, mouth slightly parted, shallow breaths exiting his lungs.
“You—?” Jonas starts.
“Yeah.” Tadej interrupts. He can’t know for sure what was about to be asked. You okay with this? You want to go again? Run away? All he knows is that he wants Jonas again. He wants to agree with him.
Jonas is on him in a second, it’s all much less gentle as Tadej gets pushed against the wall. When he looks Jonas in the eye he gets it.
Jonas looks at him like he looks at a harsh climb on a hot summer day, he looks at him like no one’s watching. This is it. These are the explosive feelings Jonas does indeed harbor for him, it’s not anger, it’s pure, unadulterated desire and Tadej’s whole body is on fire.
A shiver runs through him, he was right to want this.
He connects their lips once more, it’s messy and full of something so primal. It’s stupidly hot, the way Jonas kisses him, like he really needs it.
One of them finds the lucidity to make the elevator go again. Through a haze they reach a hotel room. Jonas’ hotel room, so this is a hotel after all.
Tadej doesn’t know what he wants anymore but he’s sure Jonas can get it for him.
Jonas pushes him against the bed and Tadej loses all sense of self. He’s not drunk anymore, he sobered up the second Jonas kissed him. But everything is so hazy, he runs his hands all over Jonas’ body, remembering every divot and imperfections. Just in case
The haze only clears once Jonas sinks into him and suddenly everything makes much more sense, why he’s here, under Jonas. That he’s been unknowingly chasing exactly this, and nothing else.That Jonas had been feeling things this whole time, Tadej just hadn’t been looking in the right places.
Jonas guides him through it and Tadej can’t stop looking at his eyes. He’s never seen them like that, so focused on one thing, on him.
If Tadej had the lucidity to think he’d realise Jonas has looked at him like that many times, Tadej couldn’t see it because his back was turned, because he’d been going up a climb, trying to not get caught by Jonas.