Chapter Text
The football soared through the air with accuracy, spiraling just enough to break its resistance but not enough to avoid squiggles and make it impossible to catch. There was some degree of comfort to the precise mechanics of its launching that felt homely to the blonde boy. Sixty percent of his weight on his left foot, get the football, drop back, make sure each step was on-the-dot and his shoulders are aligned not to close his stance, all of that while scanning the adversary's defense. Less than two seconds to secure his target, set his footing and point his shoulder at the same time, his eyes focusing at his receiver just a millisecond before throwing.
If anyone were to ask, his favorite thing about it was how mundane it felt to do a lot when many struggled to do very little. How not a single person, not even Manning himself, could correct his throwing arm in parallel with the turf, his elbow in a ninety degree angle, his hand in c form with his arm extending above his head, sharp eyes on the money not bothering to look up to see if his index finger was the last one to touch the ball, for his every move was perfection. His hips would follow the movement to give him extra leverage, gaining him yards and stability where his arm alone wouldn't do, his feet stopping just a bit foward to secure his grounding.
Following through was as easy as breathing, his throwing arm cutting the air in front of him to meet his hip and that usually meant he'd get to watch the linebackers, corners and safeties panic over how they didn't read his play well.
Everything would zone out, the world would cease to exist. If he were out of the football gear, which happened in a proportion of a thousand to one, he'd feel the wind rippling through his clothes and hair. If it were a sunny day, then it would warm his skin and if it were cold – man, he loved those days - he'd would feel it in his bones, extra alive. The possibility of getting hurt was exhilarating, but he was good on his feet, fast even, if the pocket collapsed he was moving, dashing to gain some yards sliding to the sideline whenever trouble got to close. Pain was not his cup of tea, but it was, indeed, part of the process.
Make no mistakes, sports were absolutely not his thing. But if there was a small thing he could carry with him to have fun along his many movings, it was a football and quarterbacking was about physics, reading expressions well, deceiving people and thriving under pressure, - he loved all of that. It was a bonus that he got to annoy the jock types whenever he outplayed them.
That was how Patrick Jane ended up on the field after school hours.
It was the fourth high school foster care put him in, his dad in jail and social service trying to tell him life in a carnival was not safe enough for a teenager and that he needed proper education. Not that Jane needed it, he was smarter than any high school kid he'd ever met. Dammit, he was smarter than anyone that had ever crossed his life.
And yet, Jane would lay low-key when he had to go to schools. His dad could take anything from 2 weeks to 6 months to get out of jail, he didn't need trouble getting in the way. Last time it happened, Jane spent a full season as string 2 quarterback for a Texas high school, for Alex didn't make it bail for 6 and a half months. The coach had never known he was the one coaching his number one QB, but Jane didn't want a starting job, he just wanted the benefits that came with the high school athlete status and to play some football. No one would bother or try to bully him and he got to play for realevery once in a while, including the big stage.
From the beginning that was his intention in bringing his old cleats to his first day. The principal, a nice Italian man with kind blue eyes and a soft spot for trouble makers named Minelli, had told Ella, his foster parent, the team was holding its tryouts on the same day Jane would have his first class, so he could tell the head coach about a new participant. The blonde kid took it . A new state champion jacket would help with his good boy charm next time he tried to con someone.
However life had other plans for him and it started with the cutest smile he'd ever seen. The raven-haired girl was standing good twenty feet from him just before the tryouts started, a camera around her neck, smiling at something a ginger girl had said. Her petite, but perfectly curved body was hidden by a simple white T-shirt and skinny jeans so skinny it could've been painted to her skin he wouldn't have known the difference.
Where the tall redheaded girl was beautiful, the little brunette was stunning! The sweetness of her facial expressions told the story of one who wasn't tainted by mischief and nor could be mistaken for innocence.
“Beautiful, isn't she?”
Jane had been so lost staring at the girl he didn't notice the boy stopping by his side. Slowly, he turned his head, to measure the guy talking to him. Just an inch taller than him, dark eyes and dark hair combed to the side, a thin mustache that refused to grow bigger than that and a broken nose. The entitled type, he thought to himself, taking in the confidence in his posture even with his less than alluring baggy sweatpants and a beige T-shirt.
“She is indeed,” Jane answered, adjusting the band of his navy running shorts. The brunette guy still had his eyes glued to the girl and he found himself doing the same.
“Just don't look too much, ok?”
Before Jane could retort, the other guy jogged towards the girl, swept her in his embrace and kissed her deeply.
Oh!
That was funny. A jealous guy trying to scare him into not looking at his pretty girl, who seemed very pissed at him for kissing her like that in public. Jane hated those possessive fellas with all his might. The nice, passive-aggressive spoiled little brat type and he was going to have a field day stripping that kid of his life for how long he got to stay in Oak Parks and he would start by making it varsity and working his way into this guy's team.
3 cone shuttle? Easy. 7.17 seconds just behind a burly Asian boy in a navy gear, who went 0.02 seconds faster than he did. Cho, his shirt said, stopped, looked at his last name on the back of his Katy Tigers tank top, gave him a tight nod and moved towards the 40-yard dash with his ginormous but surprisingly quick friend. They were the only ones who acknowledged him without some type of surprise, he'd be very sad if he had to take their place on the team.
During his 40 yard dash, Jane followed quickly behind Cho, with the entitled boy, Marcus, according to his equally obnoxious friends, always trailing behind him. When he ran a 4.93, the brunette ran a 5.01 and when he ran a 4.96 the other guy ran a 5.15. But he didn't seem to notice Jane doing better than him, confident in his starting spot. Benching was the only exercise he failed to beat the other guy, but for his position he didn't really need, his o-line should be strong, he was good with being accurate and fast.
With no surprises, when the time came to separate players for the position drills, the offensive coach eyed him expectantly when they called the running backs and it wasn't that he didn't want it, but he totally didn't want it. Leave it to Cho to take the hits, he was fast and strong enough for it.
“I'm sorry, coach,” He said when the head coach joined the offensive coach frowning at him, hoping the second fastest boy in the group could add to their roster. “I'm a QB.”
That was when the popular brats friends with Marcus finally shut up and turned to their leader.
Oh, great! Jane thought with a smirk forming on his lips, of course the annoying little shit was the quarterback, it made sense.
For the first time after the tryouts started, Jane looked over to the sideline to see the brunette girl taking pictures of them, her lens focused on his sweaty figure.
“You sure, kid?” The black bald head coach asked. Abott, Jane remembered, seemed to doubt his choice and man, he'd love to tear down doubters.
With a wink to the pretty girl's camera, which brought a lovely shade of pink to her fair skin, the blonde boy ran a hand through his locks and gave his best franchise-face look, “Surer than I've ever been, sir.”
He was met with green eyes that looked away from the camera to look at him and in an instant he knew he had made the right decision. Those sea green eyes, sparking with curiosity, deserved to see wonders only Jane could show. Wonders the popular brat couldn't begin to fathom.
“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you,” Coach Ron, who was Just your average white guy with a goatee, said. “We already have a great quarterback. Top notch, you know? But we could use a fast guy such as yourself.”
He was forced to look away from the brunette who rose a quizzical eyebrow at him, puzzled by his act. Ignoring her boyfriend looking at Jane as if he could punch him, the blonde turned his eyes to the coach.
“And where were you when I won a national championship almost two years ago, sir?”
Before any of the coaches got to say a word about his attitude or anyone manifested shock about his national championship status, the tall guy who was friends with Cho stepped fowards.
“Coach, sir. Kimball and I can run for him.”
Jane gave the guy a smile trying to tell him wordlessly he wouldn't regret it and got a positive sign from the giant boy in a white tank top and black running shorts.
“Look bro, I'm Wayne Rigsby,” The big guy started once coach dismissed them and Marcus yelled from across the field they'd be out of the team in a blink. “And this here is Kimball Cho, he's one of our team's captains, Pike can't get us out. Not unless he finds a better running back and a better receiving tight end. So do your thing. It's not everyday someone challenges the idiot, let alone a national champ.”
“Yeah, just don't make us look bad,” Cho muttered getting ready to run the first slant.
“I'm Patrick Jane, but you can call me Patrick and no worries, by the time we're done this Pike fella will be a pile of crap.”
When all was said and done, Jane hadn't missed a throw. His first go route became a 90 yard touchdown in which the ball travelled 50 yards through air. His release was the quickest of anyone he'd ever met short of NFL players, so he made sure to hold as much as he could to show off the speed of his ball and how quick he could get rid off it.
As soon as the secondary became involved it was crystal clear to everyone watching the tryouts Jane was superior to their quarterback in every possible way. Footwork, readings, accuracy, working under pressure, mechanics in general and arm strength. He knew where to throw, quickly bonding with their best players and only one of his balls getting deflected, while Pike was getting nervous with each passing second and by the end of the drill he had thrown 4 picks.
It was going to be so easy.