“Bonus,” Link agrees, shuffling closer and wrapping an arm around Ashton’s torso. “I did have Sam tweak her into a Hellhound, but really, Violet is still pretty much how Lawless drew her. Except now, she’s something I can look down at and feel good about seeing. ButIdid that, Ash. Not Sam, with her tattoo machine and her ink, her magic. Definitely not fuckin’ Lawless, though having me scarred and stuck with Violet is what he wanted.”
Link slides a hand over the nape of Ashton’s neck and into the strands of his hair, tipping his head forwardjusta hint, so their lips brush together once (twice). When they separate again, Link holds him just out of reach, eyebrows raised. He clearly wants to hear that his message has landed. Perhaps that ripping his own wound open wasn’t without purpose.
“I’m getting there,” Ashton says softly. “This is helping.”
“The kissing? ’Cause I can definitely do—”
“Link,” Ashton chastises, but he’s smiling, ducking his face into Link's warm neck to hide it. “Thank you.”
As he nuzzles into Link's side, Ashton feels gentle fingers begin combing through his hair. They stroke softly and urge his tired eyes to close, to send him off to sleep on a blissful cloud, Heaven brought to Earth, here in Link's arms.
“No problem, sweetheart. Night,” Link murmurs, but Ashton’s already too far gone to reply.
?
The month that follows is surprisingly similar in form and flow to that first day and night, not that Ashton is complaining.Surprised,yes, but not complaining. His official return to work as a resident artist at the Soul-arium provokes an impressive influx of customers wishing to book appointments with him and the Remingtons alike, so it seems as though Link was correct about Ashton’s name and the associated P.R. More clients are always a good thing, and Ashton’s residual concerns about income begin to evaporate, but the backlog the interest creates has them all running a little ragged, trying to keep up.
Even still, the Remingtons insist on playing as hard as they work, and most nights end with some sort of party to help them relax and unwind. Some nights it’s just the three of them, hanging out and streaming a series on Netflix with half-glasses of wine. Sometimes it’s a couple of leftover clients, cocktails, and card games. Frequently, though, it’s a handful of Sam and Link's friends, each with varying ideas of what“relaxing”means. Those nights tend to last the longest and end the latest, and—in Ashton’s opinion—embody a rather loose definition of the word he’s familiar with.
As such, Ashton finds himself sleeping over at the Soul-arium with increasing frequency. Depending on what’s been going on during the day (and who comes over in the evening), that doesn’t always translate to cuddling with Link in his bed, though that certainly happens often enough. It’s just that while Link has never made Ashton feel anything but welcome in every corner of the space where he lives and works, the last thing Ashton wants is to overstep or crowd him.
Therefore, he very happily accepts Sam’s offer to make Room 15 into his own space, a place where he can leave some toiletries, clothing, books, etcetera: whatever might be useful on those nights (and subsequent mornings) when it’s safer or simply more convenient to stay. And if that makes it easier for Ashton to justify his growing desire to do just that, then fine. If Room 15 provides an excuse to ignore the lonely pit of longing that forms in his stomach during the times hedoesmake it home, only to fall asleep solo and moderately depressed in his boring, empty apartment—well. That’s no one’s business but his own.
He supposes that one could argue it’s not very healthy to suppress such feelings and emotions, but after entertaining that possibility, Ashton decides that this doesn’t count. He’sbetter.He’s happier, less miserable of a person in general. He hasn’t needed to refill his anti-anxiety medication or use one of those maybe-snake-oil charms he bought off Charmsy to ward away panic attacks in over a month.
It isn’t justLink,either, and Ashton’s rapidly growing interest in him—he feels as if his whole life is changing for the better, his self-confidence following (albeit slightly more sluggishly) along with it.
Just like the person to whom it’s attached, the tattoo Link's fixing is also transforming entirely, slowly but surely. Not that Ashton has seen any tangible proof of that himself, but their regular sessions seem to be progressing as expected, and he trusts Link to tell him the truth. While Link continues to stand by his request for Ashton to refrain from activating any magic while things are a work-in-progress, he assures him (early and often) that the piece is exactly where it’s supposed to be.
Ashton’s wary, of course, because that’s his nature, but he’s also fully handed over the reins when it comes to directing the process. To Link's immense surprise and delight, that includes standing by his word in their first session and giving blanket permission for the adding of transformative properties. Yes,blanket permission,even if those charms will inherently require some preservation of the original work.
Admittedly, Ashton wasn’tcompletelysold when he gave the previous ‘okay’, but after hearing the story about Violet (and subsequently learning how close Link's current tattoo is to the original he despised), he truly changed his mind.
Or, perhaps more accurately, he decided that Link could be trusted fully, both as an artist and as a human being, especially with that particular decision-making process and the execution. If there’s one thing in this world of which Ashton is sure, it’s that Link would never do anything to intentionally make him hurt.
Not Link, the man who created space for him in every imaginable sense. Who finds Ashton’s eyes across crowded rooms, just to ensure that he’sokay.Who encourages Ashton to set boundaries and limits and ishappywhen they’re enforced. Not Link, who always has a second cup of coffee waiting in the morning, who warns him about triggering trauma in movies, who replenishes his ink pots without a word and then denies he did, only copping to it when pushed, and even then, just with a wink and a smile.
“It’s a gift, Ash. Keep it,” he says, every single time.
Link takes him out. Just forfun.As friends or something more, Ashton doesn’t know, but Link seems to enjoy simply spending time with him and the feeling is definitely mutual. They go on liquor runs, to pick up supplies, to grab groceries to make dinner (also rubbing elbows). All mundane things, but because they’re shared with Link, they feel special.
One afternoon, they venture to the hardware store shortly after Ashton discovers that a piece of his equipment needs repair. They grab coffees along the way and then wander the oversized aisles almost aimlessly, discussing the logistics of building a pool in the lowest level of the bunker. Ashton eventually remarks that a bee colonyoutsidewould be much easier, more logical, and more fruitful.
“No pun intended, huh?” Link jokes, elbowing Ashton in the ribs right there in hardware, which is equally on the nose.
“I’m just saying. One step closer to pie on tap.”
“Or, maybe I just want to give you reasons to stick around,” Link suggests, his eyes twinkling, and Ashton nearly has to summon the powers of darkness to keep from slamming him up against the wall of cabinet fittings.
A few days later, they do a driving tour of the city. Tooling around in Link's car, the two of them take turns pointing out personal historic landmarks, places that have meant something to them at one time or another. Ashton directs Link past the art college he attended, and Link coasts slowly past the bar that he and Lawless used to haunt. Ashton shows Link his shoebox of an apartment and then discovers where Link and Sam grew up. He learns that the Remingtons lived above their father’s tattoo shop as children, in a now-decrepit building that appears to have been recently condemned.
Maybe it was nicer once upon a time, but itislocated in a particularly beaten-down section of town, an area with a reputation for not being the safest after dark. The boarded-up storefront is dark, and the windows above that Link claims look in on the Remington family living room are shattered. Link doesn’t seem bothered, but Ashton thinks he understands better why the out-of-the-way Soul-arium feels so enticing to the siblings.
After that, they pass by Sainted Angels, and Link asks whether Ashton wants him to throw a rock through the front window, or maybe put his pocket knife into one or more of Whitaker’s tires. He’s probably not serious, but it makes Ashton laugh in the middle of an otherwise emotional moment, and that’s appreciated.
The following Saturday, Ashton’s client list is short while Link and Sam have blocked the whole day off for press. They’re interviewing with a magazine and shooting a matching cover, which, despite a generous offer of inclusion from Link, Ashton could not belessinterested in if he tried.
The production crew arrives early, nearly at the crack of dawn, setting up their gear safely out of the way in the Soul-arium’s garage. Ashton has every intention of ignoring the whole thing completely, but both of his appointments finish earlier than expected and he feels strange lurking around the empty library, waiting for Link like some sort of fan girl or groupie.
