The fire-breathing dragon that sits on his right shoulder blade, for starters. That’s straight out of Shield’s second book and one of the greatest challenges his main character has to fight and overcome. The dragon itself is a perfect likeness to the images in Ashton’s head, all the way down to the iridescent scales bedecking its back and the trove of treasure it’s guarding.
There’s also the pen on the exterior of Link's left thigh that rotates and extends, transforming into a sword. That one’s impossible to mistake for anything other than what it is, which is Dean’s iconic weapon of choice. The sword’s distinct carvings leave no room for misinterpretation—the piece is something Dean sleeps with underneath his pillow, something he cherishes and never willingly goes without.
Next, there’s the black could-have-been-a-dog-but-is-definitely-a-Hellhound on Link's outer right thigh. There’s no denying Dean’s faithful companion from book three onward—her purple eyes are enough, but Violet the Hellhound is important. She’s an overt symbol of the main character’s desire and ability to connect with and save even the most damned souls and wayward creatures, including those who would try and take his own life.
Last but certainly not least, there’s a pattern Ashton recognizes as an anti-curse sigil, placed smack in the middle of Link's chest. The design likely has some functional protective ability, but it also happens to be identical to the charmDeanhas inked in the very same spot. In the books, the sigil prevents Dean from being possessed by evil spirits, but it’s also a sign of his commitment to the cause that he serves. It’s a badge of honor, and one he wears proudly—if secretly—an open declaration of what he does for humankind, though few in his world recognize or understand what it means. Ashton supposes that’s a metaphor in and of itself.
When he finally steps back, Link is peering down at him, wide-eyed and earnest, like he’s waiting for Ashton to say something specific. If he’s being perfectly honest, Ashton is a bit lost. It must show on his face, because Link huffs, slightly frustrated.
“You left your book on my table in the library,” he says pointedly, and it feels like a prompt. Forwhat, though? What does Linkwant?Ashton finds himself squinting again, which leads Link to cough and scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck. “I, uh, I know you said that you bring it everywhere. I guess I just thought you were exaggerating.”
Unhelpful,Ashton privately gripes.
“You’re… a fan of the novels as well,” he ventures carefully, though even as the words leave his mouth, his conjecture feels slightly off the mark. That’s essentially confirmed when Link glances away and laughs softly.
“Something like that,” he replies.
Mulling over the possibilities, Ashton wanders to the shelf above the bed that displays all of Link's knickknacks. Running gentle fingers over the—just as he thought—brand-new versions of the entire Shield book collection, he gives up.
“I think you’re going to have to connect these dots for me, Link,” Ashton admits. “You’re clearly a fan, rabid enough that the majority of your tattoos relate to Dean’s journey, and yet, these books appear to be untouched, as if you’ve never even opened them.” He turns to regard Link curiously, one hand still wrapped around the first book in the series’ elegant binding. “Not that I blame you, I suppose. My nerd heart suspects that these are actually very expensive first editions, so perhaps you keep your own well-loved copies elsewhere.”
Once again, Ashton knows that he’s missing the mark, though he still can’t figure out what or why. For his part, Link just hooks his fingers together behind his back, ducking his head to the side as the hellhound and the dragon hiss at each other, the dragon’s fire flaring briefly and unexpectedly off of Link's back and into the air.
“You’re trying to distract me now,” Ashton observes. “And yet, you clearly wanted to show me this, want me to recognize something. Why?”
Link shrugs nonchalantly before stepping back into his jeans, although he leaves his chest bare for the time being. “You’re about to be vulnerable with me,” he says softly. “I thought I could return the favor. With all the talk we’ve had about tattoos being more than ink, about how sometimes the meaning behind the art can be complicated and confusing, even when you love the tattoo itself. Which—I know you don’t, I just thought… ”
While he has no idea what Link is driving at specifically, Ashton suddenly understands that this is a lot more than a “tit for tat” visual exchange. There’s something else happening, there’s some key piece of information that Link is subtly trying to share, and he’sclose,he just needs a little…push.
Forcibly swallowing his near-paralyzing reluctance to let his walls bend (never mind break), to evenbeginto get close to Link with everything else that’s going on, Ashton exhales intentionally and follows his gut. Without giving his brain time to second-guess his instincts, he steps squarely into Link's personal bubble. More confidently than he’s done anything in quite a while, he reaches out and places two fingers atop the amulet at the base of Link's throat.
“Tell me about this,” he instructs, holding steady eye contact and silently thrilling when Link swallows hard and visibly suppresses a shiver. It is satisfying to know that his proximity has the same sort of effect on Link that Link has on him, but that’s really a thought for another time.
“Sam inked that one,” Link says quietly, so quietly that Ashton almost has to strain to hear. He also focusesjustoff to Ashton’s left as he talks, almost avoiding his eyes, which isn’t Link's usual style. “Well, she did all of mine, actually, ’cept one, but this was the very first. Thought it was fitting, you know? Since Dean’s sister gives him the necklace in the series. Family ties, and all that.” When Link finishes speaking, his eyes find Ashton’s once again, and they look almost pleading.
It abruptly occurs to Ashton that there might be an extremely obvious answer to this quandary. An answer that he was, up until this point, disregarding completely for the pure absurdity of it, the extreme unlikelihood that he couldeverbe so lucky as to—
No,he reprimands himself.Don’t get carried away. There is simply no possible way in Heaven, Hell, or anything in between that Link Remington, perfection personified that he already is, could also be…
But against his attempted rationalizations, the puzzle pieces continue to coalesce, fitting together as flawlessly as Link's ink adorns his skin.
After pondering for a moment, Ashton decides,what the hell?Link clearlywantshim to guess, so it can’t hurt to test the waters.
“So… you’re not actually a rabid fangirl? Gender-neutral usage of the term.”
Link's laugh is even more subdued this time, and he shakes his head in the negative. “Not exactly,” he hedges, fingertips perhaps not-so-unintentionally brushing Ashton’s thigh. His skin tingles in their wake—there’sheatbetween the two of them, emanating from both of their bodies, shared easily since Ashton has yet to step back and Link looks extraordinarily comfortable where he’s standing a mere handful of inches away.
“Link,” Ashton says slowly. “Stop me if this leap is not the puddle-sized one I believe it to be. If, say, in reality, I am attempting to hop across the Grand Canyon.” When Link just smiles shyly and lets his hand come to rest on Ashton’s hip, he takes a deep breath and continues. “Are you by any chance implying that youareMichael Shield?”
“No,” Link replies petulantly, right before he rolls his eyes and shrugs. “I’m Link Remington,” he clarifies. “Michael is just an alias.” Annoyed, Ashton slaps his chest lightly, amused at the way the amulet jumps when he does—that’s anexcellentcharm.
“You ass,” he chides, huffing a small, disbelieving chuckle. “And you’reashamedof that? I—truly, I don’t believe that I’ve ever encountered a more determinedly self-deprecating person, Remington.Withoutyour success as a writer, you have more talent in your baby finger than most people harbor in their entire bodies. The way you create artwork, the way you buildworlds,it’s—well, actually, now that I know it’syou, I believe I can see a lot of similarities between the two, but I’m no less blown away by it.”
While Ashton rambles, Link returns to looking determinedlyanywherebut at him, though the grunting noise he makes suggests that he disagrees wholeheartedly with Ashton’s assessment.
Ashton frowns. “Your books helped me through some very tough times,” he says frankly after a long moment of silence, shifting back slightly to put some space between them. “Not to sound like a starstruck fan—though, for the record, that’s exactly what I am—but I’d appreciate it greatly if you wouldn’t disparage either your stories or yourself in front of me. If your goal tonight in revealing this bit of information was to put us both on more even footing, then it follows that you shouldalsobe working to overcome such insecurities and feelings of shame.”
Link's eyes are slightly shiny when he glances up, and Ashton smiles warmly, hoping to put him at ease.
