Chapter Text
This wasn’t meant to happen. This had never happened before- this wasn’t right-
Error held his face in his palms, fingers rubbing at his cranium in an attempt to soothe the building ache.
Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. This wasn’t normal.
Five days. It had been five days since his heat cycle had ended, and his ecto still hadn’t unsummoned. He hadn’t thought much of it at first since he often keeps it active for extra support while on the job - a spine alone is very easy to cut through - but when he’d returned to his prison and attempted to dismiss it, only for it to stay, he knew something was up.
The implications, considering he and his husband had... spent some time together not long ago, were terrifying.
Error muttered a string of swears, voice cracking and fizzling as his stress grew.
He understood that sometimes it takes longer for ecto to dissipate depending on how much magic had to be absorbed, especially after a heat cycle, but it shouldn’t take more than forty eight hours at the absolute most - and two days was already extreme! So for five to have had passed...
Again, the implications were terrifying.
Five days… and that was assuming his estimation was even right, which it may very well not be.
Sighing shakily, Error unfolded himself from the ball he’d curled into just enough to peek down at his stomach. He lifted up the edge of his tattered, blood-stained sweater to reveal royal blue ecto, and despite his poor vision, made the SOUL-sinking discovery that some of Nightmare’s magic was still there, bright turquoise just barely shining through his darker flesh.
He wasn’t entirely sure what to think - there was no SOULling, but then again, he had absolutely no idea how-
...how... it worked-
(He didn’t want to say the word, he didn’t want to think the word. It felt as if doing so would make it come true.)
For all Error knew, this could be entirely unrelated. Maybe his absorption rate is glitching (but that’s never happened before), or maybe he’s gotten sick again and it’s causing this for some reason (but he doesn’t feel ill, aside from the crushing dread.)
Regardless of why his ecto was persisting, he needed to talk to Nightmare. Even if he isn’t... something’s still wrong, because this isn’t normal. As much as he wishes he could pretend he never made this discovery, lest further inquiry confirm his fears, Error knew he needed to know what was happening so it could be fixed, and to do that, he needed to go to his husband. He’ll figure out what’s wrong. He’ll know what to do.
But what would he say if he really was...
‘Relax,’ he told himself, ‘He would never blame you. He is reasonable. He cares about you.’
A few Voices sneered, mockingly trying to convince him otherwise. Usually such an attempt would be pointless - he’s not stupid, of course Nightmare cares for him, they’re married, for stars’ sake - but the severity of the topic at hand was enough for him to falter in his dismissal of their claims. Harsh words cut deep into his very being for a moment, before Error regained his grip on the small amount of confidence he possessed, angrily shouting at them to shut up. He whined in distress as cruel laughter grated against the inside of his skull like sandpaper, and hit his fist against the floor beside him.
It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. He thought this would have been the exact sort of thing They would have made impossible for him.
Would he be upset if They had? Would he be sad that this could never have been an option, or would it have never crossed his mind?
(Stop thinking about this as if it has been confirmed. Maybe- surely it is something else – maybe They have made it impossible for you.)
Would he be happy if They had?
Error slapped himself out of it. He couldn’t start spiralling now, he needed to go to Nightmare. He needed to go to Nightmare and stop considering what the Voices had to say. He needed to open a portal now before he had second thoughts.
He reached over to the side for his glasses, sliding them onto his nasal ridge as he stood, before tearing an opening through the Anti-VOID and into the corridor outside his husband’s office, and stepping through. He could sense that Nightmare was in there through their SOULbond, and so, with a sigh to try (and fail) to ease his nerves, Error knocked gently on the door.
“Come in, Error.” The God of Negativity’s voice was muffled through the door, but heard nonetheless.
The Destroyer cracked open the door just enough to squeeze in, easing it shut behind him. Nightmare was sat at his desk, as usual, putting his quill away to turn his attention to him. There was nobody else in the room.
Good, we’ll have privacy.
“What brings you here, darling?” His husband’s voice was soft and deep, and he was looking at him gently. He knew that he could sense his distress, and yet he didn’t immediately speak on the topic. Error appreciated it, but it didn’t make what he had to say any easier
He took a breath in. “Night, someth-thing’s… something’s wrong-ong-“ Error bit his lip as he felt it try to quiver.
Seriously? Was he already going to cry?
The Voices seemed to agree with how pathetic that was.
One of Nightmare’s tentacles reached over with the intent to guide him closer to its owner, and Error grabbed it, but remained rooted in place.
“Do you know what it is that is wrong?” His husband thought he was talking about something mental – that he felt like something was wrong. He couldn’t blame him, because that’s usually what it was.
Except this time it wasn’t.
Error nodded, avoiding eye contact. “’s not men-mental.” He could feel Nightmare’s gaze upon him; a silent prompt for him to continue.
Another nervous breath. “U-um… you know how-ow, uh… after- when we-e-“ He was struggling to find the words, unsure how to break this news in the easiest way for both of them. He felt as if the second he mentions the time they spent together, when his heat and Nightmare’s… weird tree spirit mating cycle had lined up, his husband would know exactly what was going to follow.
He took a pause, and decided to get straight to the point – over and done with.
“My ecto-o isn’t unsummoning.”
He kept his gaze firmly locked on the carpet, refusing to look the other God in the eye. The tentacle in his grasp curled around his radius and ulna, and he squeezed it.
There was an awful, crushing silence for a few moments, before his husband spoke: “…you don’t think..?”
Error looked up at him briefly before averting his eyes once more. Nightmare’s expression had shifted from calm and encouraging to worried, the lower half of his face being held in one hand.
He knew what he meant.
“I don’t- I don-don’t know, Night-t, I-“ His voice began to break, glitching harder as he fought back inevitable tears. The tentacle around his forearm tugged gently, and this time he followed, walking around the large desk to stand beside the negative God.
“Could you… show me?” Nightmare asked, voice still so soft and warm, even when faced with something like this. Keeping his head low, Error wordlessly lifted the edge of his sweater, showing his husband what he had discovered.
There was another period of silence, and after a moment which felt much longer than it actually was, the Destroyer took another peek up at the other God. He seemed to be lost in thought, still holding his mouth in his hand, brows furrowed. Error couldn’t be sure exactly what he was thinking, but he thought it best to break the silence, speaking nervously.
“There isn’t a-a SOULling or anything-ing, but…” He trailed off, and Nightmare nodded slightly in response.
“The SOULling does not form until… around week three, if I’m recalling correctly.” Error felt his SOUL sink. Just because there was no SOULling now didn’t mean there would never be.
There was still a possibility.
Nightmare continued: “I have not read anything regarding prenatal development in monsters in… quite a while.”
Why was he talking about it like he was certain he was actually…
“…So-o you’re entir-entirely sure that’s-“ Error’s words caught in his throat, and he felt himself begin to panic, chest aching in that familiar way as his SOULbeat increased. The tentacle tugged him forwards again, and Nightmare opened his arms in a silent question, to which he responded by gripping onto the King’s sleeves for dear life. He was lifted into the air, before being carefully deposited in the God of Negativity’s lap, where he promptly buried his face into his husband’s clavicle and began to sob.
“I’m really not sure what else it could be, dear, especially considering our mating cycles and… recent intimacy.” A large hand rubbed slowly up and down Error’s spine in a comforting manner, and yet his crying persisted. A kiss was pressed to the side of his skull. “I’m sorry.”
Why was Nightmare apologising? It wasn’t his fault. Error didn’t want him to apologise. He just wanted this to go away – for it to have never happened.
He wanted to tell him all this, but it felt as if he couldn’t get enough air to do so.
They sat in silence for a few minutes as Error worked himself down from his panic, eventually slumping against his partner, who had kept on soothing him the entire time.
“…I didn’t thi-ink this would have been possi-ossible…” He spoke quietly, voice hoarse and dry. He really didn’t – even if Nightmare looked like a skeleton monster, in reality he was an entirely different species. He may not know much, but he did know that different species normally couldn’t… reproduce together.
He still didn’t want to say- even think the word.
“I wonder if it could have been because our cycles lined up… I suppose monsters and tree spirits must be genetically compatible for this to have happened- or perhaps it was because of my form…” Of course Nightmare was theorising – of course. It was a quirk Error typically found charming, but currently all he could think about was cursing each and every hypothesis his husband presented.
Stupid form, stupid compatibility, and stupid, STUPID heat-!
Nightmare must have sensed his anger, because he halted his speculating to comfort him again, laying a hand on his waist. Error sniffled, voice barely above a whisper. “What are-are we going to do-o?”
The King sighed deeply and gave him a light squeeze. “…There’s a very difficult decision you are going to have to make, love.” Error looked up at him, eyes sore and cheeks gross and sticky from crying. Nightmare’s expression was serious, but there was still that comforting softness to his eyelight. “You do not have to carry this to term. It is possible to end it, if you wish.”
Error laid his head back down on his husband’s shoulder, feeling utterly miserable. He responded after a few seconds, wiping his sockets from under his glasses. “I-I don’t know-“
He didn’t even know where to begin thinking about this – there was so much to consider, and half of it was either terrifying, or something he really didn’t know his thoughts on.
“And I don’t expect you to know yet, darling, but you are going to have to.”
Error despised the whine he let out at that.
Nightmare seemed to think for a second. “It is currently Saturday… our cycles ended on Monday, so it has been approximately five days since conception.“ His estimate had been correct, it seemed.
The God of Negativity paused, before releasing a second sigh. Judging by his facial expression, Error didn’t think he was going to like what he said next. “…I know this is going to be very hard, love, but do you think you could decide by next Friday?”
He didn’t think he’d be able to decide even if he was given a century.
“I know only having six days isn’t ideal, but we’ll need enough time to acquire the necessary equipment and perform the procedure if you do decide not to carry this to term. You can’t safely terminate a pregnancy after the SOULling has formed.” -Oh stars, not that word- “If you can decide by Friday, we’ll have around a week and a half to organise ourselves and ensure that you get what you want. I do not want you to make your decision, only for it to become impossible.”
“It’s n-not fair-air-!“ Error cried, burying his face back in Nightmare’s tear-soaked shirt, shoulders shaking as he held back sobs. The hand on his back resumed its prior rubbing.
“I know. I know it’s not. I know.”
The silence returned as Nightmare focused on calming him back down, tentacles curling inwards to gently lay around Error like a loosely-wound cocoon. The King petted his head, and his breathing slowly returned to normal.
“Error,” A thumb rubbed at his cheek – a prompt for him to look up, “I want you to know that, whatever decision you make, I will ensure that it is met. I will ensure you receive care comfortably and safely, alright?”
Error nodded, gaze dropping as he nuzzled under the other God’s jaw. Nightmare kissed the top of his head. “I mean it- and don’t let any guilt over, supposedly, ending a life dictate your choice, either. This-“ He jumped slightly as his husband placed a careful hand upon his stomach. (That felt… nice). “-isn’t truly alive yet. It has the potential to become life, but presently, it is nothing more than condensed magic.”
A hand caressed his cheek, and his head was tilted so he was looking the King in the eye again. “You are not hurting anything if you decide not to keep this, alright? It is important that you understand this.” Error exhaled shakily, and nodded again, breaking eye contact once more to rest against Nightmare’s clavicle. He looked down at where his husband’s hand laid, gently cupping the curve of his stomach. (It would grow if he left it alone).
Stars, why did this have to be so complicated?
“Until then,” His attention returned to the God of Negativity, though he didn’t move his eyes, “you should take care of yourself. Eat. Rest. Be careful with your job. We don’t want your poor health to affect development if you do decide to keep the baby.”
(Oh stars, a baby-)
“It will be good for you, either way.” Nightmare finished, continuing to rub Error’s back. Another silence fell upon them, though this time less suffocating, before the King seemed to have a thought, a brief flash of concern gracing his features. “You haven’t been hit in the stomach at all, right?” He shook his head after a short moment of consideration. “Good”.
Nightmare kissed his forehead again, and moved his hand from his stomach to his waist, caressing his side with his thumb. “You should stay for dinner – sleep too, if possible.” The Destroyer hummed in response, emotionally exhausted. Sleep sounded lovely. “I’m not sure what Horror’s making. How solid do you think you can handle food, presently?”
“Not very-ery…” He croaked out. He didn’t trust himself to not throw up from the stress.
The other God peered over at the clock on the wall. “There are a few hours until dinner. I can go talk to Horror about your meal – for now, you should either nap, or do something therapeutic.” He stood, carrying Error in his arms. “Have you started any new crochet projects?”
A small, tired smile spread across the glitch’s face, and he nodded, beginning to tell his husband about the cardigan he had started to make.