#errorink fic

“hands on the handlebars— on the HANDLEBARS—”

Error had spent the entire day literally SPRINTING next to Paperjam’s bike as they careened down a hill, completely out of control. Sweat pouring down from his skull, he managed to catch up to her, only to immediately catch his foot on a rock and faceplant in the grass. Error himself had never TOUCHED a bike’s handles— he usually just tried to look mad as he got to cling to Ink’s pretty waist, the artist doing the actual biking with Error behind him— but it didn’t matter. Error was gonna be an expert at this, he had to be.

Because about ten minutes away, Ink was on another hill, trying to show Gradient how to ride.

————————

“i wanna teach the kiddos how to use a bike,” Ink had murmured as he woke up, flopping over the side of the pillow-barrier between them and tangling one hand in Error’s. “it’s about time, and pj should be feeling okay.”

Error had grumbled and flopped over to fall back asleep— but Ink yanked him back over, scuttled to his side, and sat right on his belly. “get up, get up!! i’m serious, come onnnn. it’s like seven thirty—“

After groaning again and making a few empty threats, Error sat up, sending Ink sprawling on the blankets. “i bet… i bet i could teach one of them.”

Ink scoffed. “you?? you can’t even ride a bike, ruru, let’s relax a little. i’m obviously gonna be the teacher.” He traced little patterns on Error’s chest with his finger, snickering as his husband’s face flushed.

“i could teach one, i bet. i said i could. i— i could teach pj better than you can teach gradient.”

A new light entered Ink’s mismatched sockets. The bet was on.

————————

Gradient had his little glasses taped onto his face, chubby hands like a vice around the tasseled handlebars. “mama, my feet don’t reach the pedals.”

Ink stopped short, glancing up from where he was adjusting the chains. “your seat’s the lowest it’ll go, buggy.”

“s’not working,” he explained, swinging his feet around and clearing the low pedal by about two inches. Ink sighed, and glanced around… inspiration struck when he noticed a pile of scrap wood.

Within minutes, Gradient’s little crocs had two-inch blocks of wood attached to them, like the world’s weirdest platform shoes. Ink beamed at his own genius. Gradient felt himself glitch slightly, blinking as hard as he could to get the anxiety off him. But instead of pushing him down the hill… Ink held onto the handlebar, his hand right next to Gray’s.

“ready? i can walk you around and you can just sit on it until you’re ready.” His fangs glinted in the sun a little, a sign of a very wide smile— Gradient knew his mama tried his best to be good and help him, but sometimes maybe that big of a smile didn’t mean good things.

“…don’t let go of the handle?”

“of course!!” Ink smiled again, and that calmed Gray’s little nerves a bit— maybe he was just nervous to bike. Maybe he was just scared of being so high off the ground. His thoughts were cut off, however, the moment Ink began walking, the pedals turning on their own and pushing the little glitch’s feet along. He found himself smiling after a little bit, despite how his uncomfortably tight helmet pressed into his big glasses, or how his butt kinda hurt on the seat.

It was when Ink started RUNNING that problems arose. The speed made the pedals go faster, and in his panic, Gradient pumped his little legs as hard as he could, sending him roaring forward. And leaving Ink in the dust.

A screaming black and teal blur flew through the grasses, but Ink smiled. Maybe all Gradi needed was a little push, and now he was okay! He had already taken an hour getting used to the feeling of the helmet, and needing to learn how each part of the bike worked before he even CONSIDERED getting on it— how much more was there to be afraid of?

It was the crunch from fifty meters across the meadow that wiped any happiness from Ink’s face. Now he ran for real, not just the little jog he had done when he was holding onto Gray’s bike. His bare feet pounded against the damp grass, his arms cutting through the air— all to see the tiny glitch sitting, completely bewildered, under the shade of a tree. The bike’s front tire had been scraped. His little knuckles were dusty from the skeleton equivalent of scratches, and his cheek looked raw with magic. He had hit the tree, clearly.

“mama,” he mumbled as if he was chewing something. “mama, look, i’m a big kid!”

In a post-panic daze, Ink took a while to glance down at his baby… to see his left front tooth completely GONE. Well. Not completely— it was sitting in a tiny puddle of magic in Gradi’s palm. Swallowing back a wave of vomit, Ink lurched forward and collapsed into a criss-cross-applesauce beside his son. “uh, yeah, you— you’re a big kid. we can celebrate if your dada doesn’t kill me, okay?”

—————————

It had been three hours and Paperjam still couldn’t (or wouldn’t) do anything but try wheelies, when they couldn’t even move forward.

“i’m pushing you down the hill again if you don’t try on your own, jammy.”

“no, you won’t, cause you’re not gonna run down after me. you’re a fat old man.”

Error scoffed and struggled slightly to his feet. Biting back a few VERY unkind words, reminding himself that this is his baby, that children can be traumatized easily, AND squeezing his eyes shut was almost not enough to keep the curses inside his mouth. But it was, in the end, and he settled for a brief “shut it”, glaring at the ground until his phone rang.

A thinly veiled panic soaked through Ink’s high voice, his words blending together as he babbled. “going home— knocked a tooth out— crashed in a tree— gradi says he’s fine but i’m worried he’s in shock or hurt—“

“wait, what??” Paperjam perked up. “no freakin’ fair!! i haven’t even lost my front teeth yet!!”

“you’re, uh, a different circumstance. now; we gotta go home cause ink crashed gradient into a tree,” Error snapped his ancient phone shut, lifting his kiddo off the bike. “and you’re gonna stop failing at wheelies before you break your ankles.”

—————————

Ink sat on the couch, holding a wad of gauze in Gray’s little mouth as he listened for the door swinging open. They’d be home any minute, and Paperjam would no doubt be angry— they hadn’t lost any teeth yet, and hated it.

Neither Ink nor Error had the heart to tell them a lot of other milestones would be delayed like that— being that much of a preemie came with a lot of dangers and, later in life, annoyances. Ink had caught Error crying a little one time after seeing PJ up early to check the mirror every morning, hoping against hope that a tooth was gone…

But maybe they’d just let this time go and feel sorry for their little buggy brother. It was always hard to tell with PJ, whether they’d blow up or not.

“guess we’ll know soon,” Ink murmured to himself, gently changing the gauze, as the front door slammed open and he heard a tiny voice shriek.

With a slew of little “no freakin’ way”s and “you gotta be kidding me”s, PJ almost meticulously checked over their little brother, patting his knees for scrapes and rubbing his cheek. Immediately after the brief tenderness, though, they yanked at his lip to see the missing tooth.

“you BEAT me!!” they growled, shooting to their feet. “this is so STUPID!! the tooth monster’s gonna go see YOU first, and—“

“PJ, your brother crashed into a tree and knocked it out,” Ink corrected, tugging softly on his kiddo’s scarf to get their attention. “for all we know, he won’t lose a tooth naturally until he’s ten.”

“no, ish wash wiggly before i cwashed.” [“nope, it was wiggly before i crashed.”] Gradient giggled through the gauze, not quite realizing he was only agitating his sibling further.

With a tiny smile, Ink realized something— the kids really were tiny versions of their dads. Betting and comparing everything. Competitive as hell, until it really mattered. Glancing up at Error, he decided to test something…

Error had been staring at the clock for an hour now. Ink had assumed he was just having an episode, threw a blanket over him, and called it a night. The artist now slept on the other side of the makeshift pillow barrier that prevented unexpected touch— and idly, Error wondered how such a tiny little guy could snore so damn LOUD.

He had zoned out eventually, yeah— staring at something for too long made his brain feel numb— but the sound of Gradient snapping his DS shut and settling in grabbed his attention. That kid didn’t sleep voluntarily until at least midnight, on Project Mirai until he couldn’t keep his little eyes open anymore. Ink and Error had given up long ago on trying to keep him from doing so, but still… that was how Error usually knew to sleep. Paranoia pricked at him every time he closed his eyes, so he waited for every single person in the house to be sound asleep before letting his guard down. He’d done it since the kids could walk, and although Ink saw it as a pleasant surprise or even consideration— “oh, you fed the baby while i slept!! thanks!!”— it was far from it. He was just trying to silence his stupid brain.

Gradient was passed out, his glasses still crooked on his nose. Error folded them and tucked him in a little, prying the DS from his rigor mortis-like grip in sleep. Ink was asleep, Error had to check six times by fake punching him to see if he’d flinch. It was tough with Ink— he’d be snoring one second and Error would take the opportunity to get changed, then the second he was half naked Ink would be right behind him to tell him about the railway system’s gravity in Outertale AUs.

Gradi and Ink were out cold.

So where the FUCK was his other son?

Error was not methodical in the least whenever he looked for something, as he often checked the same place five times and neglected the rest of the house. The issue was, he never perceived himself doing it, so every damn time, he thought he did a fantastic job. It drove the kids insane. Ink didn’t really care— he never remembered where to look either, so who cared if there were seven different TV remotes in circulation?

Error’s patchy, erratic search method glazed over the open fridge. The missing backpack. The spray paints gone from Ink’s studio. But for all his madness, there was a little method, and he did catch one detail. Paperjam never let his nail polish (applied directly to goopy phalange tips) dry properly, and his fingertips had clearly scraped the window when he opened it. After missing basically every clue but one, Error still felt like Sherlock as he came to a conclusion— the kid had snuck out.

He hadn’t been kidnapped (one source of paranoia down), he hadn’t been killed (another down), and he definitely hadn’t run away, right? He’d have brought Gradient with him, or at least a stuffed animal.

Swallowing down a wave of nervous nausea that had risen during his frantic search, Error sat back down on the bed… on Ink’s side this time.

“squid. get up. it’s important this time.”

The snores cut short. After a good amount of muffled protest, Ink finally raised his head from the pillow. “you just want water again and you don’t wanna walk down the hall in the dark, you manbaby.”

“i said it’s important this time!! paperjam— paperjam’s gone. just gone, i can’t find him, his window got opened and he left-“

Ink stretched and yawned, not unlike a wiry little cat, and glanced up. “relax, if he left voluntarily it’s probably nothing. and you look like shit… did you sleep at all?”

Error quickly lied, but it was about as efficient as a GTA traffic light. “yeah. just woke up.”

Twenty long minutes passed of Ink helping Error do one last sweep of the house, before they agreed— PJ was gone. Ink was tired after a long diplomacy event in the southern regions of the Omega Timeline, and Error had claimed he was sleeping, so the glitch ended up on watch duty. Settling against the wall beside the entrance, he pushed his crochet hook through the next loop of his hat-to-be.

When the fifteen year-old ink creature stepped through the door, clothes stained from tagging around the neighborhood, his foot hit something… soft? Ew, that can’t be right, he grimaced.