[fic][Check, Please!] Numina 3/?

[sakon76]

(3 - Locality)

They stepped into sunlight, and Jack fell to his knees with a gasp. He felt terrible. This was worse than the hospital had been, even. Everything hurt, he was going to throw up--

"Steady now. I gotcha." Eric was beside him on his knees, coaxing him up. His brown eyes were concerned, but he didn't hesitate to thread fingers through the hair on the back of Jack's head and pull him into a firm kiss.

Slowly, the feeling of wretchedness dimmed, ebbing away as Jack and Eric shared breath. A few moments later, with a last touch of his tongue to Jack's teeth, Eric drew away. "Better?" he asked.

"A little. Bits, what...?"

"You worshipped me so thoroughly for, what, near seventy years, that I've got energy to spare and to share right now. And you, sugar, are currently a god without a domain. Which means you've got no reserves."

Jack had never really thought about this part. Eric, it seemed, had. "So how do I get a domain?"

Eric's smile was sweet and just a little bit sarcastic. "Jack, you're telling me you don't know what you're a god of?"

"...No?"

"Oh dear lord." Eric briefly face-palmed. "Honey, if you said the name Jack Zimmermann to anyone on Earth, what would be the first thing they'd associate with you?"

Jack thought about it for a second, then his eyes widened. "...Oh."

"Exactly," Eric said, even as realization was blooming breathless behind Jack's breastbone.

"Hockey," Jack murmured. He met his husband's eyes. "I'm... a god of hockey?"

Grinning, Eric hauled him to his feet. "So, mister god of hockey, shall we get you to your domain?"

"How?"

Fingers tapped at his chest. "You got a feelin' here? Somethin' like the smell of ice, the weight of a puck on your stick, the sound of it hitting the back of the net?"

"Yeah."

"Grab onto that, and pull."

Clumsily, not sure exactly what Eric meant or what he was doing, Jack closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling of a rink.

Of... home.

Opening his eyes again, he felt the familiar chill against his cheeks. Looking up, he saw his own jersey hanging in the rafters.

"Very nice," Eric said from by his side. "That's how you move from shrine to temple to acolyte in need. You just grab that essence and go. But first, I think... you need to claim your domain."

"How... how do I claim it?" Jack asked. He swept his hand around, indicating the empty rink. "Hockey's a team game, Bits."

Eric was suddenly before him, looking twenty-two again. He wore his Samwell uniform with the C, and his stick was in hand. "I worshipped at this altar, too, Jack. Maybe it's not a one-man game, but there's still only one way to win it."

They were at center ice, Jack realized, and he too wore a uniform, held a stick. Beyond Eric there was a net, and behind himself, he knew, there was one as well. There shouldn't have been, equipment was supposed to be put away when there wasn't practice or a game, but there it was.

"You want this domain, Jack?" Eric asked him, and his eyes were hard. He was in faceoff mode. "If you want it, prove it. Take it from me."

From nowhere, the puck dropped between them.

It was the best hockey, the fiercest one-on-one Jack had played in... ever. Even mortal, Eric had been an incredibly fast skater, with soft hands, and great skill at reading the ice. Newly divine, Jack was struggling to keep up. But he was better at hockey than Eric, he knew he was. He had spent almost his entire life on the ice, training, playing, coaching. Eric hadn't. The fact that Eric knew how to be a god and Jack didn't was not going to be what decided this match. Jack wanted this. He wanted this rink. Wanted this ice. Wanted this domain. He pushed and pushed and used every trick he knew, footwork and technique coming back to him after years away from the ice, plays roaring back to life, until he was burning, fiery, incandescent--

The puck hit the back of the net coming from a beautiful, perfect, textbook slapshot off his stick. Goal.

And the world exploded for Jack.

He could feel every rink. Every frozen pond. Hundreds of thousands of sticks and skates. The clatter of pucks in a bucket, the crisp scrape of blades on ice, the visceral adrenaline of a game--

It all opened for him, overwhelmed him, and then snapped into place.

"...Oh," he said, not for the first time, as he understood what he was, his domain, his place in the world.

His husband was before him, blond hair tousled and sweaty as he rested a gloved hand on Jack's chest. Over his breastbone. Over this amazing feeling that was the blood pulsing in his veins, his reason for existence.

"Incredible, isn't it?" Eric asked softly.

"Yeah," Jack said, feeling it all swirling around and through him. He met his husband's eyes. "This is what it's been like for you, all this time?"

Eric cocked his head to the side, smiling. "Well, you know, probably a little different. But, yeah. This is what I am. What we are, now."

Unable to find words to express what he was feeling, Jack leaned down, grabbed on, and kissed his husband, as deeply as he knew how.

Eric, brilliant as the sun, melted into it.

For time unmeasurable, they stayed like that.

Eventually, stadium staff hauled goals out onto the ice, set things up for practice. Eventually, coaches whistled and players shouted, skating around or through the divine couple locked together mid-ice.

Eventually, Jack and Eric drew apart.

Eric's hand was still fisted in Jack's jersey, but he was no longer in his own hockey uniform. Instead, he was wearing slacks and a button-down shirt, an apron over them to keep food splatters off his clothing. "I gotta go take care of some of my own," he said, never looking away from Jack. "You gonna be okay, honey?"

"Yeah," said Jack. "How do I find you?"

"You know that feelin' you got for me?" Jack nodded. "Just follow that if you need me. I'll come check up with you in a bit, but right now, I gotta go see to a catering emergency in... oh, lord, London of all places." One more soft kiss. "You good, Jack?"

"Yeah," Jack said, knowing he needed to let go of the boards and figure out being a hockey god on his own. "I've got it, Bits. Love you."

"Love you too, sweetpea," Eric said. "See you soon." One more kiss, and he was gone.

Jack smiled, then turned to the practicing athletes. He was going to find some youth hockey players to check in on next, but for right now, the third line here really needed to work on their cohesion.