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Solitary Togetherness	By : simplysakka Category: Individual Celebrities > Brady Quinn Views: 1077 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Brady Quinn or Jay Cutler, this is entirely a work of fiction, and I make no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Solitary Togetherness
Author: Sakka
This is a way-back, alternate universe fic about Brady Quinn and Jay Cutler meeting while they were still in college. As it is, Brady is now with the Denver Broncos, Jay's old team, and Jay is playing for the Chicago Bears.
Pairing: Brady Quinn/Jay Cutler, Jay Cutler/OC
Rating: Depending on the chapter, ranges from G to NC-17
Summary: Back in their college days, the two quarterbacks meet…off the field.
Disclaimer: I do not know Brady Quinn or Jay Cutler, this is entirely a work of fiction, and I make no money from the writing of this story.
Please read & review! I'd like to know what you guys think.
Chapter 1
            He smiled as he felt the cooling of the late afternoon air rush through his tousled brown hair and felt the ball come off his finger just right and spiral down the practice field so beautifully… This was his refuge, his escape from the world of learning, the two degrees crushing him in. His father was never supportive of his love of the sport, how he excelled in football as well as in baseball early on, and his mother encouraged him to work hard in school and be sure to have a backup plan… “A backup plan, a backup plan,” Brady whispered to himself as he ran back to the ball bucket and snatched another prolate spheroid to wind up and throw a perfect spin down the field.
            As he threw the next ball, his eyes fell onto the empty stands next to the practice field, although he noticed that they weren’t exactly empty. A lone watcher sat there – some guy, wearing an olive green hoodie and blue jeans, the wind ruffling his brown hair just as it was Brady’s.
            ‘Hmmm, he looks familiar,’ Brady thought as he jogged back to the ball surplus to grab another practice football. The addition of two joggers entering the gate to run the track around the field momentarily distracted him, but he quickly looked back at the spectator, and noticed that his eyes were fixed on him, almost staring.
            Brady did a little footwork, feeling odd at being watched so intensely, but shrugged it off and threw a perfect ball down the field, landing it right at the back of the end zone. ‘Who is that guy?’ Brady thought to himself as he walked back to snag another ball. He glanced over and the dude was still there, sitting stock-still, taking him in. It almost felt as if he was being penetrated by the watcher’s eyes, which were a piercing blue in contrast to his own dark brown.
            Brady began to run through everyone he knew in his head, teammates, classmates, friends of friends, but he couldn’t place him. However, he knew – just knew – he had seen the guy before.
            The ball sailed through the air and Brady Quinn watched it with pride. He knew he was good. It didn’t matter what his dad said or how his mother fretted that he was going to get passed over when it was time to start looking at going pro. He was comfortable with the degree paths he had chosen, and he felt that he would be more than equipped if the National Football League decided they didn’t want his skills and talent on the field. Still, it was such a dream, such an obsession almost, and he spent many of his waking and non-studying hours out here on the practice field, giving it all he had, to ensure he could throw the perfect ball.
            The sun was starting to dip below the practice field stands and he could feel the crisp of the evening autumn air start to prickle the hairs on his arms. Maybe this was a good time to quit. He did wonder how long the guy had been watching him as he picked up the ball net and ran down to the end of the field to retrieve his thrown footballs.
            After gathering them all up, he started running back to the other end and noticed that the young man was still sitting in the bleachers, watching him intensely. Brady stopped mid-field and stared back, in his eyes a questioning gaze, and the guy slowly nodded once at him. Brady shrugged his shoulders and ran the rest of the way back to the ball storage can and dumped them in. He closed it up and dragged it over to the shed under the stands, and noted that Mr. mystery guy was still watching him with those staring, intense eyes.
            He waited for the two joggers to pass by on the track, and then crossed it, dragging the ball bucket and feeling like he was under the most earnest scrutiny. He noticed in his peripheral vision that the joggers didn’t even catch the dude’s eye. He just kept staring and staring at Quinn, as if he was afraid to miss even a second of movement from the Notre Dame quarterback.
            As he approached the stands, he realized he could see the guy a lot better, and it suddenly hit him who it was – Jay Cutler! The Vandy quarterback, of course! They had played in a game just two weeks ago! He tossed the ball surplus into the storage shed, locked the knob, and then walked back around to the stands. Jay smiled at him, but said nothing. His eyes were truly as blue as an azure and cloudless sky, and it made Brady dizzy to look too deeply into them. He licked his lips and smiled back, and figured he was going to have to be the first one to speak after a silent moment passed by.
            “Hey – you’re Jay Cutler, right?” Brady felt strange hearing his own voice after the hours of quiet and solitary practice on the field. Cutler nodded slowly, still smiling. ‘Okayyy… Is he going to say anything?’ Brady’s mind raced. They had never actually spoken at the game – Notre Dame had beaten Vanderbilt soundly, and his teammates had snatched him and carried him in a victory march to the locker room before he had a chance to shake the losing quarterback’s hand or even speak a word to their coach.

            Brady broke the silence again. “Wha-- uhhh… What are you doing here?”
            Quinn placed his foot up on the bleacher slat closest to him and stretched out his calf and hamstring. Why was he so nervous? His heart was pounding in his chest, and he felt like he couldn’t catch his breath. ‘It must be from the exertion of dragging the ball can off the field,’ Brady convinced himself. But somehow, he felt that there was definitely something else going on inside of him right now.
            Jay was quiet for another moment, and then, in a voice much softer than Brady expected, said “Want to go get a beer?”
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Solitary Togetherness