嗑了。

they really have the intimacy😋

oouuoouoohhh for your little ask game could I perchance get Jonas/Wout and "light" ? 😲

THIS GOT OUT OF HAND LOL EXPECT THE REST TO BE SHORTER AND LESS BASED IN REALITY😭 but its based on the jonas jumping into arms picture which has been theorized [ty reddit] to be after ventoux '21 !

Wout’s still buzzing, half from the leftover high of the win, half from the subsequent praise from the team. He knows he’ll be sore later, once he’s had enough time to wind down—but not yet. Ventoux is a dream come true, and it hasn’t sunk in yet. He's not sure it ever fully will.

He’s talking idly with a few of the guys—mainly waiting to find out if he’s good to get out of his kit, finally—when three things happen in quick succession:

Jonas walks through the open door, dressed in his white jersey. He says something into the hall behind him, one last comment to whoever must still be out there, and turns fully into the room.

He looks up, catching sight of Wout. His eyes widen, face cracking into a wide smile nearly instantly.

He crosses the gap faster that Wout’s ever seen him move off the bike, and then he’s in Wout’s arms, easy as anything.

He’s laughing, clinging to Wout, and it makes Wout laugh, too. He adjusts his hold, hefting Jonas up so they can see each other. Jonas is flushed, although it can’t be from the race anymore, and he’s looking at Wout with such open adoration that Wout feels greedy to even notice it.

“Today was incredible,” Jonas says. “You were incredible.”

“So were you,” Wout says. “We all knew you could crack him.”

Jonas shakes his head. “Today is the first time I really believed it.”

Wout was up the road, focusing on his own win, so he didn’t have a front row seat like usual. He’s sad to have missed it, in a way—although he’s already seen it in the highlights. Jonas pushing ahead up the mountain, Tadej lagging behind. He caught back up to Jonas in the end—and Jumbo is still down five minutes in the classification, of course—but those feel like minor details in the face of what Jonas accomplished today.

“Keep believing,” Wout says. “What did I tell you, eh?”

Jonas leans forward, pressing against Wout’s chest, head tilted down so his face is right next to Wout’s ear. His fingers dig into Wout's shoulder a little, and Wout hears the way he swallows before he speaks, voice low.

“I think you’ve been right all along,” Jonas says. “I think I can win.”

He’s not just talking about a stage.

“You can,” Wout says, automatically. You will, he doesn’t say, although it feels almost as true. It’s dangerous, to start taking things for granted—but he’s seen this hunger before, this self-belief. The potential for it in Jonas was obvious from the start.

Jonas leans back in Wout’s hold, so they’re looking at each other again—and Wout sees the way Jonas comes back to himself a little, as if he’s just remembered all at once that he's supposed to be shy.

“Sorry,” Jonas says, shifting. He moves like he’s giving Wout the option to set him down, but Wout tightens his hold instead.

“It’s okay,” Wout says. “You’re very light.”