More confused now, Dean started to protest, but it stalled in his throat. It wasn't that big of a deal, Dean could temper his expectations. He watched, truly baffled as Don Juan started to undo his buttons. The back and forth was going to give him whiplash.

As the tattoo became visible, Dean sucked in a breath. In ogni vita. The match to his.

He reached out to take the other side of Don Juan's arm gently, leaning in to look closer, suddenly overcome with the sentiment of it. When Dean had gotten his, it had been to remind himself of it; a real, visible memento that he meant what he'd sent in that letter and always would. That Don Juan had committed to it, (and had sat still long enough to get it done,) had Dean feeling a little guilty about his train of thought tonight.

It was rare for a man who made his living off languages to be speechless, but he couldn't find the right words. He gave up after a moment of looking at the tattoo and instead closed the gap again, this time the kiss full of the emotions he couldn't fully articulate, more careful with his hands to avoid aggravating the fresh ink.