Chapter Text
Hey this is Jonas. Congratulations on the win.
Tadej stares down at the text, uncomprehending for a moment. Jonas Vingegaard was texting him? Jonas Vingegaard had his number?
As if answering him, he gets another text.
I asked Primoz for your number. Hope that is okay.
“What the hell?” Tadej says to himself. He hits Mikkel on the shoulder and shoves his phone in his unsuspecting teammate's face. “Are you seeing this?”
Mikkel grunts and turns away, pulling his blanket higher over his shoulders. Their plane had only taken off a few minutes ago, but no one could rest as well or as quickly as Mikkel on a flight.
But no one was as stubborn as Tadej. He keeps hitting Mikkel’s shoulder till the Dane realizes he isn’t letting it go and turns to face him with a huff. “What?” he asks irritably.
“Jonas Vingegaard just texted me.” He shoves his phone at him again.
“What?” Mikkel repeats, face scrunching in confusion as he reaches out to take Tadej’s phone. He frowns as he looks at the screen.
“I’m not hallucinating, right? You see it too?”
“Yeah,” Mikkel says, handing the phone back. “What on earth is he doing texting you?”
“I don’t know!” Tadej whispers shouts, suddenly aware he actually doesn’t want people to know about this. He looks across the aisle where Brandon is seated but he’s hunched over his phone watching something, earbuds in. “You think someone is pranking me?”
Mikkel looks uncertain. “That would be mean. I can’t think of why someone would do that, much less who.” Mikkel abruptly gives him a stern look. “You didn’t say anything to him did you?”
“You know I can’t!” Tadej whispers hotly, cheeks heating up.
Mikkel raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sure you can. Your crush doesn’t render you mute, just a bumbling idiot.”
Tadej glares. “It’s not a crush,” he says for the hundredth time.
Mikkel rolls his eyes and pulls his blanket back up, clearly done with the conversation. “Whatever. He reached out first so it’s fine; just text back.” He turns away and Tadej swears he’s asleep the next second.
Tadej looks down at his screen. What did he say? Why was Jonas reaching out now? They had raced against each other multiple times now and Jonas had never really acknowledged him. It wasn’t till they were both standing on the final podium of the Tour a few months ago that Jonas had mumbled a few quiet words to him.
Those soft words had been more than enough to get his heart racing. Afterall, he had only spent the past two years or so obsessing over the other man from a distance. A distance that had been both self imposed and involuntary. Because Jonas Vingegaard was practically untouchable.
Everyone knew when Jumbo-Visma signed the Danish man in 2019. It had been all the press had talked about for weeks: 'Vingegaard Becomes First Male Omega to Join A UCI WorldTeam'
There were omegas in other professional sports, but there had never been one in the pro peloton before and it had been a real media circus. Everyday there was a new article out speculating on how it would change Jumbo’s team dynamics, some new think-piece out on why it taken so long for road cycling to ‘catch up with the times’. Those had been received particularly poorly by the teams.
It wasn't that omegas were inferior, there were omegas in just about every top level of every sport out there (American Football and Boxing had been dragged into the discourse but their governing bodies and professionals hadn’t really cared as much), it was just a numbers game. Omegas were rare and male omegas were rarer still. Society placed so much value on male omegas that they practically wanted for nothing. There was no reason for them to destroy their bodies in pursuit of accolades they were basically born with. And cycling certainly didn’t look half as pretty as something like figure skating.
And while that conversation had died down fairly quickly, the interest in Jonas did not. Jumbo had given out a singular statement announcing Jonas signing and how they were excited for him to join the team and then had gone silent. No matter how absurd the articles became regarding the team, they never said another word on the matter which only drove the media crazy. And no outlet had ever been able to get a hold of Jonas himself, Jumbo having spirited him off to their training camp.
When he made his first appearance in Basque Country it had been a mess. The media had followed him around the entire time, accosting him the moment he crossed the line, trying to get to him before his team could. Tadej remembers it like it was just yesterday- he had been there after all.
It had only been a moment, after the last stage. Tadej had been navigating his way behind the rows and rows of team vehicles, heading towards his own team’s bus. And then Vingegaard had come out from between some cars and almost ran into him. Tadej had jolted back, apology already spoken before he even realized who it was.
He remembers looking into wide blue eyes and Wow had been the only thing he had been able to think.
If Vingegaard had apologized as well, Tadej had been too distracted to hear it.
The next thing he knew, the omega had turned away and continued on to wherever he had been heading and that was that.
Tadej would spend the next year following Jonas' career as he made a name for himself outside of his secondary gender. They wouldn’t race together again until Belgium, over a year later, and by then Tadej was thoroughly enraptured, having consumed every scrap of content even slightly related to the man. In Wallonia, he had tried to speak with him multiple times throughout the day, but the omega had been surrounded by his team the entire time. A week later he would get another chance at Liege but, again, Jonas had spent every moment surrounded by his team.
Even though he had noticed it from watching his races, it was another thing entirely to experience Jumbo's overprotectiveness firsthand. When they met again the following year in Abu Dhabi it was like he had his own security detail. Sepp Kuss practically had him by the scruff of the neck the entire time and Koen Bouwman had snapped at some Groupama sprinter who had supposedly been staring for too long. Tadej hadn’t been able to get within fifteen feet of the man; and he had tried pretty hard. He couldn’t really explain it, but he just knew they would mesh well together.
When Jonas took Stage 5 the urge to get closer became even stronger.
But it wasn’t meant to be as he never managed to get the other’s attention.
And then a few months later they came full circle, back in Basque Country, and Tadej almost went crazy as they stood on the podium together. It had been almost two years since they had been this close to each other. He hadn't been counting, but as they stood on the podium, he knew three more days would make it two years exactly.
“You rode so well,” Tadej said to the man, cheeks warming up against his will. He had been chasing this man forever and now that he had him alone he didn’t know what to say. Primoz might as well not have been on the podium next to him, he was so enraptured in Jonas’ blue eyes as the omega finally looked at him again.
Jonas gave him a small nod, twin spots of red dusting his cheeks.
In hindsight, it was probably then that his hyperfixation turned into an obsession.
And then the Tour had happened and Tadej had truly lost his mind. Three weeks of exquisite torture as he rode with Jonas, constantly exposed to him all throughout the day only to be ignored whenever he had tried to start a conversation with the man.
He wasn’t sure which had been harder, the first two weeks when Jumbo’s wall around the omega was as impenetrable as ever (Primoz had even bodily pushed him away at one point when Tadej had tried to line up next to Jonas at the start. Tadej was pretty sure his countryman had done it subconsciously, not seeming aware of his actions if the blank and disinterested expression on his face was to be believed, but he wasn’t sure if that made it better or worse) or the last week where there had been an abrupt change in their behavior where Tadej had been allowed to approach but Jonas hadn’t given him the time of day.
They had found themselves on the podium together again and Tadej could not let him go again.
“You rode so well,” he said.
Jonas gave him a small nod and a small smile, twin spots of red dusting his cheeks. “Congratulations.”
Tadej was sure his face must’ve been bright red and he hadn’t been able to think of anything else to say, just stared back at the omega with what had probably been a dopey smile. (It had been. Rafal had shown him the pictures, voice high-pitched as he tried to get his words out while laughing hysterically.)
When it became obvious Tadej wasn’t going to say anything back and would just continue to stare at him like an idiot, Jonas had tilted his head to the side, smile growing slightly.
Wow had been the only thing he had been able to think.
And that had been that. Tadej had been packed up and shipped off to Tokyo for the Olympics and then shipped off again to train and then he was back in Italy for the Il Lombardia which he had just won some 12 hours ago. Which Jonas had been at and hadn’t so much as looked in his direction.
Tadej’s thumbs hover over the phone screen uncertainly.
Hey this is Jonas. Congratulations on the win.
I asked Primoz for your number. Hope that is okay.
What on earth was he supposed to say? Hey this is Tadej. I think I love you please let me take you out. Yeah, that wasn’t weird at all.
God, but why was he reaching out now? Tadej hadn’t done anything other than make a fool out of himself on the Tour podium. They had exchanged a total of a dozen words maybe, mostly from Tadej’s side. If Tadej hadn’t won so many races, if he wasn't constantly praised as a wonderkid, he wouldn't've been surprised if Jonas didn’t even know his name. Why hadn't Jonas just congratulated him at the actual race? Was someone daring him to text him? Tadej didn’t want to come off as too excited. Like receiving a text from him wasn’t literally shaking the foundations of his world.
Thank you! It was a lot of fun XP
Oh my god why did he put the emoji. He stares at the sent message in horror.
Maybe next time you congratulate me in person?
Oh god that sounded terrible, too demanding, why did he send that??
You can text me anytime!
Tadej all but slams his phone down, just barely fighting off the temptation to throw it across the plane. God he was such an idiot.
He picks it back up and opens the chat again. No reply yet. Not even the dots showing he’s typing. Tadej stares at the screen for a while. Stares and stares.
He eventually puts his phone down with a frown. The flight from Milan to Nice wasn’t long and when they land Tadej still hasn’t received a response.