Kai的搬运工

［Ink/Error］One Rule (Dreamswap)

Summary:

Two grown men sock skating like idiots in a busy castle is completely, irrefutably normal.

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Error stared at the space in front of them with awe. A large string of caution tape and various warnings blocked their path, claiming slippery floors, no admittance, and various arrows pointing in alternative directions.

Heeding those warnings, however? Not why he and Ink were standing side by side at the boundary to the labeled hallway.

“Are you sure you can do this without getting in trouble from security?” Error asked Ink, bouncing on his heels. He was wearing no shoes, only the slickest of socks covering his feet.

Ink waved a hand. “Eh. I do dumb manchild stuff all the time,” he replied vaguely. “I’m pretty sure a waxed hallway is the least of their concerns, anyway.” He sat down on the floor, unceremoniously sliding under the mass of caution tape. Error followed suit, advancing carefully. 

The moment he reached the other side of the tape, the floor turned from solid ground to practical ice. He attempted to stand, and Ink watched with mild amusement as he immediately fell on his ass again.

“Graceful form, Glasses,” Ink told him, clapping slowly. “Watch the pro.”

Error briefly stopped to consider why he was spending time with this man of literally all people.

Ink rose to his feet, pretentiously bowing as he stood with ease. Error clenched his fists, his knees wobbling as he pushed himself back up. His feet tried to slide apart again, and he found himself flailing his arms for balance. He almost fell over again, but forced himself to stay upright.

“I was going to challenge you to a race to the end of the hall, but I don’t think you’re ready,” Ink said, shaking his head.

Error pursed his lips. “Challenging me when we just got here? God, give me some adjustment time. Pickin’ on beginners to feel good about yourself,” he grumbled.

“It’s not that hard,” Ink told him with a shrug. “Maybe it’s your socks. Don’t tell me you’ve never slid around on shit in general.”

“Let’s say I didn’t expect the floor to literally be ice. I was thinking more of an ordinary kitchen wax.”

Ink clicked his tongue. “Not extra enough for the most extra organization in the multiverse. So, do you wanna race or what? I’ll give you a handicap.”

Error scoffed. “What kind of handicap?” he asked.

“If you feel like you’re gonna fall on your ass, string yourself back up. You know, actually, that’s barely even a handicap. There were no rules to begin with.”

“No rules, huh?”

Ink turned on his heel, the faintest of smiles cracking on his cheek. “Catch me if you can.” He slid off, skating with surprising form.

“Ink, it was a little bold to claim no rules,” Error called, swinging his arms some more as he tried to move.

Ink whirled around. “What can I say? You’re too much of a wuss to go that out of bounds. Plus…” He put a finger on his chin. “Can’t break nothing. Skating around has no consequence but I don’t think anyone’ll be too happy about property damage.”

Error raised an eyebrow. His mouth was open slightly, tongue stuck out a centimeter, and he briefly pressed it across his teeth. Flicking a finger, a single string came out, aimed at Ink’s leg. Ink, noticing it coming, dove out of the way, rolling to the side, but couldn’t properly recover from it and just slid into the wall.

“Hilarious, dickbag,” Ink said, disappointedly sprawled sideways on the floor.

Error shrugged, carefully sliding his feet forward as he retracted the string. “No rules, you said,” he replied.

Ink slowly rose back up, a hand on the wall. “You wanna play that game, Glasses?”

Error looked around ingenuously. “No rules, but no messes, so it seems?” he suggested. “Can you even fight back without making a mess?”

They were standing directly in front of each other now. “I could figure it out,” Ink told him. “Or maybe I’m more strategic than you think I am.”

“Then let’s play a stupid game, Ink,” Error said. “One rule. No destruction.”

“Oh, darn,” Ink mused. “That means I still lose, even when I destroy your pride.”

Error smiled crookedly. “I should be telling you that.”

Ink let out a huff of air, the smile on his face growing. “Rest in pieces,” he said, pushing Error over. The other man tumbled to the floor, Ink breezing away.

Error didn’t hesitate. From his spot on the floor, he fired more strings at Ink. Ink, already anticipating it and looking over his shoulder, whizzed to the side and avoided them. The strings latched onto a pillar, in the very least giving Error something to pull himself up with. The bespectacled man hauled himself forward, stumbling as he skidded with the string in his hand.

Ink took a moment to turn around and stick his tongue out. Feeling pent up frustration begin to emerge, Error continued pulling himself forward with one hand, trying to incorporate a skating motion. Slowly but steadily, it was getting easier, but Ink still yawned as he meandered backwards down the hall.

“You sure you’re up to this, man?” Ink asked. “Shoulda taken some real lessons before agreeing. This feels more like a tutorial level than a race.”

“Oh, shut up,” Error replied, working faster to speed himself up. He retracted the string he had launched, falling no longer as imminent.

“That’s more like it!” Ink exclaimed. “Keep that up and maybe you’ll the pass the kindergarten skating course.”

Error looked over Ink’s shoulder, gasping slightly. “Oh shit–” he started. “There’s a guard, I think he’s coming towards us.”

Ink whirled his head around. “What?” he asked.

Error pushed off forward, sliding past Ink with a flick of his fingers. A loop caught Ink’s ankle and pulled his legs out from under him. He yelped, grunting as he landed on his back while Error slid past him.

“Oh, that’s fuckin’ dirty!” Ink declared. He immediately grabbed the string around his ankle and pulled on it, trying to loosen the twine, but it was snug. A smug laugh from Error and Ink took hold of the long end and yanked hard on it. 

Error let out a small scream as he almost lost his balance, his arm pulled behind him. He regained his balance and turned to Ink, swinging the string in retaliation and breaking all physics–as his string tended to do–as Ink thudded into the wall.

“You just gonna keep me like this?” Ink asked. “Come on.”

“No rules,” Error reminded him.

Ink let out a huff of air. He took hold of the string around his leg, pulled himself to his knees, and summoned his brush. Error was walking backwards as he noticed the hairs of Ink’s brush turn into a blade and he sliced the string clean off of him.

Error spread his lips into a flat line. “Oh. Hello,” he said. He laughed awkwardly as Ink pushed himself to his feet, using the wall to propel himself. He passed Error in a long skid, Error backing away as Ink tried to knock him over with the length of his brush. “Oh, get back here!”

More strings came. Ink pirouetted into the wall, holding his brush in the air. Error retracted all of them, baffled by how Ink just avoided them like that. Error had defeated armed guards with his strings, and Ink just casually avoided them with the power of dance.

“Do you think that chandelier will break if I try to swing on it?” Error asked, pointing up at the ceiling.

“I dee kay,” Ink answered, ambivalently proceeding further down the hall. “But ya might get busted anyway.”

Error let out a sigh, lengthening his stance to try and skate faster, only to remember that he wasn’t actually that good at this and almost falling to his hands and knees.

“I’m sure you can think of something better than that,” Ink sneered, walking backwards. “Come on. Give me a challenge, Glasses.”

Error tilted his head slightly. He held up a hand, a portal materializing next to him.

“Hey, wait a second!” Ink declared, his grip tightening around his brush. “You have to stay in the goddamn hall, idiot!”

“Who said I wasn’t?” Error asked. He stuck his hand through the glitching white portal, another portal appearing at the end and his arm waving through it.

“I call bullshit. This qualifies as destruction. Destruction of the fabric of time and space.”

Error gasped dramatically. “Ink, valuing the preservation of rules? It’s a new era,” he said, pulling his arm back out and the portal vanishing.

“Dude, would someone be dismembered if you closed that while their limb was through it?” Ink asked.

“Actually, it doesn’t fully close until whatever entity is fully passed through it,” Error told him with a shrug. “I would know that because I’ve tried that. And…”

Error flicked his finger, and Ink’s leg suddenly swept up from under him, Ink emitting a short scream in the process. His brush clattered to the ground, and as he realized what had happened, he crossed his arms and glared.

“Got you,” Error said.

“Motherfucker,” Ink swore, swinging slightly from where he hung.

Error picked up Ink’s brush, inspecting it curiously before lowering it. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take my time walking to the end of the hall.”

“Hey! Don’t touch that!” Ink told him, reaching his arms out as Error walked around him. He shook his leg, a loud rattling sound accompanying it. “Am I tied to a fuckin’ chandelier?!”

Groaning, Ink gritted his teeth. He held his hands out in front of him, and the brush abruptly melted out of Error’s hands. He looked over his shoulder, seeing it reappear in Ink’s grasp.

Error blinked slowly. “Oh. Uh oh.”

A subtle crack suddenly echoed in the hallway.

“Hey, did you hear that?” Error asked.

Ink rotated upside-down slowly to face him. His eyes were slightly wide. “Don’t tell me that came from above me.”

Another crack as Ink tried to swing at the string tying up his leg, and another as he tried again.

“Error, let me DOWN,” Ink snarled.

Error’s eyes went wide as he looked at the chandelier. “Oh shit,” he mumbled. “I… I disconnected it from my hand, I can’t just–”

The cracking grew more pressing. “ERROR!” Ink shouted.

Error threw his socks off his feet and ran towards Ink right as the ceiling gave up on life.

The massive chandelier came tumbling down, Error throwing himself against Ink right as it happened. The sound of shattering glass and snapping metal filled the hall, the two men skidding away on the slippery floor and only stopping when their diagonal led them to hit a wall. Ink was lying on his back, Error lying on his chest for a moment before getting a hold of himself and pushing himself up slightly.

“Are… are you okay?” Error asked.

“You are such a fucking idiot, you know that?” Ink told him.

“I’m sorry.”

Ink snorted out loud.

“W…what,” Error mumbled, looking at him confusedly.

“That was still fucking awesome,” Ink said. “You just broke a whole chandelier. Your stakes are high. Unfortunately, I win, because you broke the only rule.”

Error was starting to notice that he was still hovering above Ink, their faces so much closer than normal, but realized that he didn’t really want to move.

“Are you enjoying your time sitting on me?” Ink asked him nonchalantly.

Error’s face lit up. “I–uh–” he stammered, backing away. “I wasn’t paying attention–”

“Hey, dumbass.”

Ink’s hand met the side of Error’s head, clutching at his curls, and for a few long moments, their lips met. Ink’s lips were warm, yet dry, and the unexpected feeling had Error’s hair standing on end.

“… Have fun dealing with security and a whole lot of angry custodians,” Ink said, removing his hand and smiling.

Error watched, completely frozen, as Ink stood up and ditched him in next to the pile of glass that was what remained of the chandelier.

Once Ink was out of sight, Error pulled the edges of his jacket together and screamed into it.

What just happened?