If he’s being brutally honest, though, he is hoping for more than just a quick tête-à-tête. With his nerves on edge the way they are, he could do with some unwinding. Perhaps someactualNetflix and chill (not the euphemism) while curled up together on Link's bed. Or maybe they could re-watch one of those old cowboy movies Link likes so much, the ones with all the guns and tuberculosis. With any luck, Link won’t be too busy.
Ashton spots his client relaxing with a cup of tea on one of the couches in the atrium. He gives her a wave as he passes, holding up a finger—just a minute.His station should still be ready to go since he left a brand-new, sterile tray laid out last night, but it never hurts to be sure. Mentally, he’s running through the design and the charms he plans to use, cataloging the ink colors that need to be pulled from his supply drawer.
As Ashton climbs the steps to the library, he’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of buzzing. That’s curious, because he checked the books yesterday evening, and as of closing time, there weren’t any customers (besides his own) marked in for this time.
Peering around the doorway and into the first alcove, Ashton catches sight of Link just as he’s putting the finishing touches on some ink. His client is a thin woman with long, wavy brunette hair that’s braided to one side, presumably to keep it out of the way. The rib-and-shoulder-blade tattoo she’s having done runs directly over some prominent bones and nerve-filled areas that Castiel knows are painful. He’s unsurprised to see her eyes squeezed shut and both of her hands clutching the chair, holding on like it’s a fireman carrying her out from a burning building.
Based on that, Ashton thinks he can guess how the rest of the session has gone.
Poor Link,he thinks.
Neither the client nor Link notices him immediately, so Ashton creeps closer. Peering over Link's shoulder, he takes in the way the majority of the tattoo has already healed—Link must have been doing it in stages, probably for the uncomfortable client’s comfort. While it’s not an overly complex piece and likely could have been accomplished in one long session, itisa tattoo of significant size. The basis of the design is a staircase made out of books, which is a fascinating concept. The stairs originate below the client’s armpit and curve up around her back, taking advantage of her anatomy.
It’s alotof linework, copious shading using color, and a character piece to boot—there’s a little girl climbing the steps, and her features are quite detailed, delicate, even. One foot on the step in front of her, the child wears a blue dress and appears to be following a blue butterfly, almost as if the butterfly is her guide. That’s not all, either—surrounding those main design elements are various flowering blooms that add color, interest, and whimsy.
The overall effect is both elegant and intricate, and Ashton can’t help but stare, truly appreciating (not for the first time) how incredibly talented Link is when it comes to his art.
“Alright, Marie,” Link says gently, moving his machine away from her skin and wiping over the design with some green soap solution. He does a double-take when he finally notices Ashton standing there, his features visibly softening and a smile spreading across his face. “How are you feeling?” Link is definitely still talking to Marie, but his eyes are for Ashton only, and Ashton struggles not to blush under his attention.
Oblivious to the shift, Marie nods as she stands and stretches her legs, shaking them out. “Better, now,” she admits, offering Ashton a small wave but otherwise apparently indifferent to his presence. “Got a little rough at the end, there. It’s done? Like, for real this time?”
“It’s done,” Link confirms, shooting her a wink and gesturing invitingly towards the double-mirror setup at the back of the room. With single-minded focus, Marie heads that way, leaving the two of them to follow. Several paces behind her, Link presses a kiss to Ashton’s cheek while keeping his still-gloved hands to himself as they walk.
“Missed you,” he says quietly, before turning his attention completely back to his client like the consummate professional he is. “Alright, you ready?”
Nodding determinedly, Marie exhales with intention and stares at her tattoo in the mirror. As Ashton watches, the tiny blue butterfly begins to quiver, flapping its wings until it lifts off from Marie’s skin andgrows.Once in the air, the butterfly becomes larger and larger until it’s reached the size of a real one. It flits from flower to flower in the process, each bloom suddenly appearing significantly more photorealistic than before. After a once-around the blossoms framing the girl on the stairs, the butterfly takes off again and perches on Marie’s shoulder, delicately fluttering its wings before dissolving into thin air with an ethereal shower of blue sparks.
It’s lovely.
After the charm concludes, Ashton can’t help stealing a glance at Marie’s reaction, surprised to see that she’s covering her face. She sniffles and shakes her head just slightly, shoulders quaking as she makes an obvious attempt to reel herself back in. Ashton feels awkward, wondering whether he should make himself scarce, but they’re standing in front of his station. Fortunately, Link's prepared, appearing by her side with tissues. He murmurs some quiet words and takes her in his arms, hugging her tight against his chest until she’s managed to compose herself again.
“I’m sorry,” she wheezes, pulling back from Link's grasp and blowing her nose into the tissue he offers. “It’s just that this isexactlywhat I saw in my dream. A beautiful tribute for my Dad, thank you. Thank you, Link. It was worth every second of the pain.”
The awkward feeling returns, making Ashton feel like he’s intruding uninvited on an intimate moment. As discreetly as he can, he compliments Marie and then escapes to the atrium with the intention of retrieving his waiting client. That should leave enough time and space for Link and Marie to wrap things up privately, or at least to relocate.
Stopping at the reception desk, Ashton checks the appointment book, pulling out the sketch he made previously and tucked in there last night.Ah, yes.This is a tattoo he’s been greatly looking forward to working on. It’s technically simple: just a bee, realistically drawn and climbing over a black and white graphic honeycomb pattern, but it’shuge—nearly a full half-sleeve in size. All of the line work has been previously completed, so it’s just color, details, and magic left for today.
Creating art like this is exactly what he needs. It’s the perfect distraction, the best outlet for channeling anxiety about his own tattoo crossing the finish line tomorrow.
“Kai?” he calls out, and the girl on the couch looks up from her phone with a grin. Ashton likes this particular client a lot. She’s almost as tall as he is, sports pink and blue cornrowed hair, and has an assortment of other, incredibly well-done tattoos covering her dark skin. He supposes that could be an uncomfortable scenario, since Kai happens to be someone who followed him from Sainted Angels, but she’s never brought it up. While Ashton does worry about gossip and his clients’ perceptions of him, he’s well aware that other people aren’t thinking about him in the way he thinks about himself.
Realistically speaking, even if Kaidoesknow something about what went down between him and Whitaker, she probably doesn’t care. After all, she followedhim.
Another thing Ashton likes about Kai is that she’s agreatclient to work on. Easy, low-maintenance. There’s never any fidgeting, and she rarely needs breaks. Since it’s far from her first rodeo, she knows exactly what to do and what to expect, which allows Ashton to slide directly into his process without any muss or fuss. They make small talk on the way to the chair, and then Kai puts in her earbuds and closes her eyes, leaving him to his work.
As expected, the soothing hum of the tattoo machine and the familiarity of putting needle to skin sweeps Ashton into another world. It washes away any lingering worry he might have been harboring about the ever-loomingwhat comes next,allowing him to be present and enjoy the moment.For the first time in several days, Ashton’s mind is blissfully blank and focused.
After some unknown amount of time, Link pulls up a chair to watch him work. His presence brings Ashton back to reality in some ways, but ultimately, they keep things light. Easy talk about their respective weeks that segues into cementing plans to watch a movie later, just as Ashton hoped. When the conversation reaches a natural lull, Link squeezes his shoulder and disappears off into the depths of the bunker.
Left alone once more, Ashton throws himself back into his work. This time, though, he finds it significantly more difficult to fully escape. His thoughts are a little wild, split haphazardly between Link, his own tattoo woes, and finally, what he’s really supposed to be focused on at the moment: the living tapestry in front of his face.
He manages to get himself together enough to finish, and Kai’s piece comes out looking pretty spectacular. The entire work, but especially the way that the bee’s wings spark to life and shimmer when they move. Similar to Marie’s butterfly, the charm Ashton uses allows the bee to lift completely free from Kai’s skin and go zipping away with just a thought. Beyond pleased, Kai gushes her delight as Ashton wraps his satisfied client in plastic and settles her bill at the reception desk out front.
He finishes the related paperwork and files it, drumming his fingers against the desk as the door slams shut and he’s alone again.
Before setting off in search of Remingtons (one in particular), Ashton glances down at his phone to make sure Link didn’t run to the store or something. There are no messages, so he shoves it back into his pocket. Wandering out of the atrium and past the kitchen—empty, save for some telltale signs of recent cooking activity—he’s confused to encounter neither hide nor hair of LinkorSam anywhere.
In fact, Ashton’s not even sure that Sam is home, since he hasn’t seen her at all today. Sam’s a social person, and she usually wanders through the workroom to say “hi” whenever he’s around. Scratching his head, Ashton shrugs and keeps looking. The next natural stop is Link's room, since it’s on the way to the space he’s come to think of ashis. It comes as somewhat of a relief when Ashton finds the door open and Link's lights on—he was starting to think he’d been ditched.
