REVELATION

[tingreca]

Title: Revelation
Author: Sarah B. Leonard
Fandom: NCIS
Genre: Fantasy, perhaps but then...
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo 
Rating: adult  (not explicit, no blood play - just a couple of m/m kisses and a promise...)
Wordcount: 4,444
Spoilers: some mentioned, but not too serious
Warning:  You may eat and drink, but then ...Tony does speak and you know Tony... 
Summary:  Tony is given a choice by someone who is much more than Tony thought he was.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement is intended.
Authors notes:  I swore I would never do this subject.  But then we were talking about Vampires at work (don't you???) and I, being of detailed mind and obnoxious of memory, mentioned the "Vampire Disease" I had read about.  So, of course, I had to 'google it' and, as I was reading the resulting page out loud, I could hear it in my own ears in Ducky's voice ... so this happened.  If you, Dear Readers, like the premise I may capture some "plot bats" and see if there is more to be written.  Comments welcomed.

 

REVELATION

Sarah B. Leonard

 

Team Edward. Yeah. Right. He remembered saying that to the guy he was trying to distract on the airplane, babbling on in his ‘DiNozzo is all pretty face and miniscule brain’ mode.

Team Edward.

And then again … it was nothing like that movie. Nothing like anything, really. Not as romantic, or as mysterious. Kinda spooky, in many ways but nothing like what he would have expected. Or believed.

But the horror was there. Now that what Gibbs had told him had been confirmed. The horror existed.

He’d known, just like everyone else, that there really was no such thing as vampires. He knew now, courtesy of Ducky, all about the odd and rare disease Porphyria. He could still hear the good Doctor speaking in his teaching mode voice “Porphyria is a group of disorders that affect the skin and/or the nervous system. The onset of symptoms can be hereditary or acquired and are quite severe. The legend of the Vampire, killers who drain their victims of blood, perhaps stems from the symptoms.”

Vampires. Bela Lugosi as Count Dracula, or even Frank Langela with the cape, black and silky on the outside, dark blood red (of course, blood red) on the inside. High collar to frame a handsome face. Now that would be cool. Really cool. Right. Or from the books of Anne Rice: Lestat and Louis. Then Angel and Spike with their leather and shifting faces and modern super cool. Instead, white t-shirts and polo tops, the not fitted too well sport coat. 

Silver? 

Would he need to buy a cross? He remembered the scene from Buffy, where Angel burned a cross into his flesh, welcoming its cruel brand into his skin just to experience her kiss.

Garlic?

“Even garlic belongs to the myth, Anthony. Garlic contains chemicals that are believed to exacerbate Porphyria’s symptoms. Yes, these very chemicals that so beautifully accompany your favorite lasagna can turn even a rather mild case into a horribly excruciating attack.”

Sun? Daylight? They were often out in it together, experiencing the heat and warmth. Didn’t seem any different from rain or snow or sleet or dark of night. Or under a full moon.  

“And this, perhaps, is part of the vicious monster image – the pain of having your skin burning under the touch of the sun, your gums peeling away – causing what appears to the layman as a lengthening of the incisors or the appearance of what some might call fangs.”

Fangs. Yeah. If only fangs were all he had to worry about. Gibbs had bright white normal teeth.  No fangs.

Long pointy fingernails. Gibbs had short blunt cut carpenter’s nails – kept out of the way by sandpaper and files.

Transylvanian accent - the long drawn out sing-songy words. Gibbs spoke basic contracted American. Short speech patterns – how had he described him that time? Functional mute.

Black eyes. His eyes - brilliant blues. 

Greased back hair. Clean silver hair. 

“The avoidance of mirrors is easily explained, as one whose flesh is literally burning off from the accumulation of porphyrins in their flesh, causing a gruesome appearance, would be likely to avoid seeing themselves in any reflective surface.”

Tony had stood next to Gibbs many times in the men’s room. He reflected just fine. Damn fine, as a matter of fact. 

“The disease would eat away their nose and ears and cause their teeth to be exposed in what would appear to be a hideous grin.”

And the view of everything else was also good and extremely normal. Not hideous at all.

His smile could light up the blackest of black holes. His grin was worth shaming yourself over and over again just to catch the tiniest look and shaking head. And his smirk, to a villain that smirk was the grin of doom. Villains fell beneath it. Women - and men - melted at his tiniest indication of humor.

He didn’t glitter in sunlight. He wasn’t encased in crushed diamonds. Nor was he cold to touch, or pale and ghostly. Nothing ghostlike about him. He was solid.

His body was fit, warm and even flushed at times. Not that of a ‘cold one’, with no beat to his heart. Definitely not the cruel stiffness of death with rigor or the opposite flaccid release of muscular tension. Life and warmth and vigor existed in his skin, in his very soul.

His soul. His eyes were the mirror to his soul. The depth of layers, hidden and those released to be shared with those who proved worthy. The sorrow he knew, the joys he had experienced, the ecstasies, the fullness of his life. If he let you look, all of that was available in his eyes.

Ducky’s voice again: “The theory is that a folk remedy developed, that of imbibing the blood of a fresh kill, to remedy the poor afflicted persons of their pain and the related anemia. And, naturally, the kills were made at night to avoid additional exposure to sun light. It is relatively easy to understand how the rumors and legends of the Vampire developed among those who did not understand the unfortunate nature of this disease.”

He didn’t need much blood, he’d said. He never drained a victim, never drained him to replace his blood, wasn’t possessed with the needs and evil desires of a killer. There was only a need for barely a mouthful. Just a small refresher. And from what Tony understood, if he took blood, it was from a volunteer. Someone who understood. It also, oddly and yet quite sensibly, didn’t need to be blood. The fluids, either from a male or a female, released during orgasm were actually a richer feast and often easier to obtain. Seduction came effortlessly to one so beautiful, so obviously full of life and willing to share himself. Temporary sexual partners were easy and didn’t need to know the truth, or at least the additional reason. Drinking from them was an answer that brought up no questions, other than why he was so willing to pleasure his partners with his mouth.

But he had spoken of exclusivity. If Tony agreed, then there would be only Gibbs. Not a bad thought. Just one that was still strange and new to him. Tony wasn’t used to exclusivity.

Perhaps it was the other powers that were frightening Tony so. Was it the slightly greater strength? Slightly quicker reactions that could easily be explained away as immediate reflexes or training? Maybe it was the ability to hear across the room, to know what was being said from far enough away to stride in and complete the conversation. Acute hearing was another claim to his power. 

His sight. He appeared to fumble, sometimes, with a piece of paper and shift its position to suit his eyes. Was it perhaps that his vision was so discriminating that he had to modify it to see what was merely words upon the page, ink on paper? Was he consciously switching his vision from a molecular level to the gross, that used by mere mortals?

Sense of smell. Could he discern the scent of fear as someone lied to him, as a murderer deflected other lesser beings with clever words or distractions? Did he recognize arousal in a co-worker, in perhaps, a senior agent as he stood beside him in the elevator or rode along shotgun in a car driven as if being chased by the hounds of hell? Did he smell the desire on hands that wished to caress him? On lips that longed to taste, albeit poorly compared to his own increased abilities, of his mouth? Spar with another’s tongue?

Touch. The delicate press of a lock pick on tumblers. The gentle squeeze of a trigger contributing to the talent of a sniper’s tools. The powerful slam of a fist into a killer’s face. The precision of a wake up call on the back of a head. 

It was all there. Tony knew he had seen it all and not been able to recognize it, in his merely human state. But then what did one expect from a measly human.

The only member of their team that slept in a coffin was Abby, and she was as human as they came. Gibbs slept in a bed with sheets. That Tony knew. Gibbs didn’t need the soil of Transylvania, or even the soil of Stillwater, Pennsylvania. Not a city known for anything other than mines, workers and a small country store. Not known for vampires.

No, none of the thoughts that Tony had allowed to dance over his brain were actual blatant proof. But now that Tony had been told about them, been made deliberately aware of the small idiosyncrasies, they had begun to add up.

He thought back to that night, the night that the disclosure had occurred. Actually, it hadn’t begun just that night. It had begun some time before. 

The attraction between them had slowly become mutual. Headslaps and grins, appreciative smiles. Tony had realized that their looks were deeper now, more layered. No one else seemed to notice, but the two of them certainly did.

Then the invitation for a dinner. Steak – “You bring the beer.” When the meal was done, they’d sat on the couch, sipping the last two bottles of the six pack. The silence grew thick between them. Finally, Gibbs had set down his empty bottle, swung his arm back behind Tony and pulled him in. Tony held his breath as his lips moved in, ever so close until they finally met in a tentative, almost too gentle touch. Warmth, a hint of beer. A shiver down his spine.

Tony hadn’t moved away. Gibbs pulled back a bit, focusing on Tony’s face.

“No comment, Tony?”

He’d let out a deep breath.

“Just waiting for more,” he’d answered.

“So you’re interested then?” The blue eyes revealed a spark.

“In more? Yes – heck yes.”

Gibbs had moved in again, this time adding a light suggestion of tongue. Tony opened at the touch, allowing the older man to taste. His arms suddenly felt awkward as he tried to embrace. When this kiss finished, and both were replenishing lungs that had been strained, Tony nuzzled down into Gibb’s neck and whispered “I’ve been wanting this, Boss.”

Gibbs chuckled. “First we need to talk.”

Tony reached over to Gibbs’s lap and pressed his open palm down. “This doesn’t feel like you want a conversation.”

“I just want to be sure, DiNozzo. Tony. I have to explain something first.”

“What? There’s nothing to explain. I want you, you want me. I’ll catch, I’ll pitch, I’ll do whatever you want, Gibbs. I’m … err … I’m not quite the exclusive ladies’ man that I pretend to be, as I guess you aren’t either.”

“No, Tony. That’s not it.” Gibbs sighed and moved away from him, just slightly.  “It has to do, sorta, with my ex wives, I guess.”

“They still coming around? Is that it?” Jealousy of his past, those who knew him before, suddenly rose up in Tony’s heart..

“Nah. I have to tell you what scared them away, DiNozzo.”

“Scared them?” Tony wrinkled his brow.  “You into whips and chains? BDSM? Is that it?”

“Nope. I just want you to know, before we go any further, that I’m not just using you.”

“Hey – use me, Boss!”

“Oh, I plan on it.” Gibbs showed his gleaming white teeth. “I just want you to know that … that I will be using you.”

“For sex? Cool! Can we go upstairs?”

“DiNozzo! For more than sex, for more than just that.”

“What are you saying, Boss?”

“Tony…” Gibbs cupped the younger man’s face in his hands, ran a thumb across the slight stubble. “Tony, I need to tell you that I am different.”

“I know, Boss. You’re Gibbs!”

“I mean – really different. It’s nothing like in the movies, but I guess the closest thing you could call me is a vampire.”

“Right, Boss. Can we have sex now?” Tony stood up.

“DiNozzo! I’m serious.”

“Cool. Then make me one and let’s have sex!”

“That’s just it. I can’t make you one. It’s something that I was born with.” Gibbs grabbed Tony’s hand and pulled him back down. “And it wouldn’t work if you were one anyway.”

“What wouldn’t work? Sex wouldn’t work?”

“Me using you. Me biting you. Drinking your damn blood, Tony!” Gibbs glared at him, willing his senior agent to see that he was not joking.

“Biting? My blood?”

“Yup. I have … it’s like a super-recessive combination of genes. Extremely rare. Ducky can explain it.”

“Duck … Ducky?”

“Yeah. But you’ll probably have to suffer through his lecture on Porphyria before he gets to the other stuff.”

“Other stuff?”

“Yeah. Like how it shows up after you are an adult. Like how I won’t kill you but I do need to drink. Like how it scared my ex-wives away.”

Tony couldn’t see where Gibbs was joking. He seemed so serious.

“There’s other things – not so important. A younger partner is better – more strength to offer. We – other vampires - can’t do anything for each other. The partner has to be human.”

“You said Ducky knows. How does he know?”

“In France, long ago, we were undercover. When we escaped, I was wounded, exhausted and almost dead. I needed food. I needed blood.”

“Blood.”

“Doesn’t have to be blood. Semen works better, or, with women, orgasmic fluid – vaginal juices. But Ducky kept me alive.”

“You screwed Ducky?” 

“No. He was able to draw some of his own blood and feed it to me. Even though he didn’t seem to believe me, at first. But then he saw how I responded to it, how it revived me, even though he was older than me.”

“Responded to his blood?”

 “It doesn’t take much, just a teaspoon or so about every month.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s during the full moon?”

“Nah. Nothing to do with that. Sometimes less than a month, sometimes more. Like how you might get hungry earlier one day, later the next.”

“So where do you get the blood now? I mean, you’ve been divorced for some time.” 

“It helps to have a friend in the Medical profession. When he can Ducky grabs an extra tube or so of blood, keeps it refrigerated in Autopsy. No one questions why it’s there … and it’s always labeled to look like an additional sample, if needed. But it’s for me, not for an autopsy.”

“You said you were going to use me?”

“Yeah. If you agree. I could never just take from my partner without, ultimately, explaining. I can’t do that again.”

“But this means that your wives know about you?”

“No. Not anymore. Besides some additional purely physical things – enhanced eyesight, hearing, sense of smell – I have the ability to do a type of hypnosis to remove memories. A confusion. We call it a ‘haze.’ My ex-wives only know that they were unhappy, but not the actual reason why. I took away specific memories but I couldn’t take away the general feeling.”

Tony looked into the fireplace.

“So let me get this straight, Boss. You’re a vampire, you drink blood or…” He couldn’t quite say it. “Blood or another fluid to stay alive. But I saw you eat meat, drink beer. You’re not gonna go vomit, are you?”

“No, Tony. Think of it more like a deficiency that I need to supplement.”

“Deficiency? A deficiency yet you have super powers?”

“Not super powers, Tony. Just enhancements.”

“And if I decide I don’t want … want to supplement …”

“Then, with your permission, I’ll remove this conversation from your memory and you’ll remember that we had a pleasant evening eating steak and drinking beer.”

“If I want to remember all this? If I don’t give permission?”

The blue eyes darkened just a fraction. “You will, because I’d ask you to.”

Tony nodded. “I get it.”

“Do you, Tony? Do you get it? Get me?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

“Then will you understand this? I want you to think about it. Talk to Ducky. Whatever you need to do. But take a week. Because there is one more requirement if we go there.”

“Yeah. There always is. What’s that?”

“The enhanced senses, Tony. I’ll know if you are with someone else. I’ll smell them on you, taste them on you. And I couldn’t stand that. I couldn’t change my … my sexual partner again. It’s too tough on me.”

“You are asking me to give up women?”

“And men, Tony. I’ve reached an age where I have to pick that one ‘supplement’ and stay with it, for the rest of my life.”

“I … uh … I…”

Gibbs put a finger over Tony’s lips, blocking further speech.

“Talk to Ducky. Think about it. Your decision. I won’t press.”

Gibbs stood up, reached for Tony’s coat and assisted him into it. Tony was out the door and half way home before he decided that Gibb’s must have done that thing – that haze to him. Tony hadn’t even wished him “Good Night.”

 

Tony had disturbing dreams that night. Mildly frightening ones, erotic and sensual for a time but then always becoming mysterious and strange. He woke himself several times, shivering nude on his bed, the covers kicked away, the boxers he had put on (which he normally didn’t use at night) on the floor at the side of the bed as if tossed there once his (nonexistent) lover had removed them. The first time, he got up, had a glass of water and put them back on before he slid back beneath the covers. He wondered why, tonight, he felt the need to put an extra layer of fabric between himself and the sheets. When he cried out during the next dream, and woke himself up, his boxers were missing again. This time he rolled himself up in the comforter and decided not to bother with them. The night was long; sleep sporadic.

He gave up trying to sleep before his alarm declared morning. Once at work, he turned on his computer, tucked his gun and badge into his desk drawer and almost ran down to Autopsy. He waited in the guest chair next to Ducky’s desk, his knee bouncing up and down with impatience until he heard the elevator announce the arrival of Dr. Mallard.

Ducky shrugged off his coat and hung it on the hook. Tony was already standing too close, peering down at the older man.

“Ducky, is Gibbs really a vampire?” he blurted out.

“Good morning, Anthony. I slept well. How are you this morning?”

Ducky’s face didn’t quite match the tone of his voice.

“I don’t think I slept.” Tony backed away a fraction, suddenly realizing that his actions were quite rude.

“Sit down, Anthony. I shall prepare us cups of tea before we talk.” He did just that, ignoring the bouncing leg of the man who at least was again seated. Once the tea was steeping, Ducky also sat and placed a restricting hand on Tony’s knee.

“Relax, dear boy. I assume you and Jethro have finally had the conversation I have been encouraging him to initiate. I will explain what I have ascertained in due course.”

Ducky opened a drawer and removed a small tin of Scottish shortbread. “Have one, Anthony.”

“I’d rather have a glass of your Scotch, Ducky.” Tony obediently took one of the offered pieces.

“I believe you and Jethro cleaned me out there, dear boy.” Ducky chuckled. “I haven’t replaced it quite yet.”  

“Speaking of Jethro drinking, Ducky … please?”

“Very well. Tell me, have you ever heard of Porphyria?” 

Tony became so fascinated by the good Doctor’s explanation that he finished his cup of tea before he even realized it. Ducky was serving him another when Tony asked “Are you a vampire?”

“No, no, Anthony. Although if I was, I probably would say the same thing to you. As you can imagine, knowledge of actual vampires would cause a panic! A witch hunt, you might say. Secrecy is imperative.”

“He told me.”

“He desires you, Anthony. But he is used to keeping secrets. It is not easy for him to admit his need – both physical and emotional – for you. Not after three failures.”

“The Ex’s?”

“Yes. He married them without revealing his true nature but over time, intimacy reveals many secrets. None of them could accept his … his condition. When he explained, it only became worse for them as their misunderstanding became irrational fears. All they could imagine was horror.  Finally, he had to remove what he could of their memories and ultimately divorce them.”

 “And now he wants me? As a donor?”

“Anthony, that is not what you are to him. Certainly not all you would be to him. It would be more correct for you to think of yourself as his life.”

“His life’s blood you mean.”

“If that disturbs you, he and I will continue on indefinitely with our current arrangement and he will remove your knowledge of his condition. All you will retain is a certain curiosity about him, which I believe you have always had.”

“You know me well, Ducky.”

“Do you have any more questions?”

“Yeah, Ducky. I can see some strong “pros” if I … um … agree to this intimate partnership. What are the cons?”

“Perhaps several. Would you become envious of his abilities?”

“I already am. No difference there.”

“You would have to make yourself available to him.”

“I already do, although not as … um … you know.”

“And you would have to refrain from being available to anyone else.”

“You mean I can’t screw around?”

“I was attempting a more delicate description, Anthony.”

“And there’s the rub, as they say. I’ve never done ‘exclusive’, Ducky.”

“You have noticed that Jethro is a man of strong emotions. They are enhanced as well, you see, including jealousy, covetousness, suspicion, distrust. He would not take kindly to you having relations with another.”

“He mentioned that.”

“Even though he is conscious of his heightened emotions, they are still natural for him. You will also have noticed his protectiveness of his team, of his friends and family. The loss of his family still, and probably always, will weigh heavily upon him. Especially the loss of his line.”

“His … err … line?”

“Yes. His daughter, Kelly. One of the “cons” as you called it for Jethro is a lack of viable sperm. Children are rare for his species and therefore infinitely precious. That is also the reason that they can not provide for each other. Their semen has very little, if any, ‘life force’ in it. They do not get any sustenance from the blood of their own species either.”

“That explains another thing he mentioned.”

Ducky sipped the last of his own tea, watching Tony over the rim of the cup.

“What would you do, Ducky?”

“I would not presume to answer that question for you, dear boy. You must make your own decision, based on your own desires.”

“I figured you’d say something like that.”

“You were correct.” Ducky began to clear away their tea. “Consider your own needs, not his. Do not allow any feelings of owing him or, perhaps even worse, owning him. That would grate on you both, as well as be impossible.”

“Thanks for talking to me, Ducky.”

“Anthony, do be certain of your decision, and be careful.”

“Careful?”

“His species can recognize each other as well as those who serve them regularly. You would be easily distinguished by them.”

“Is that bad?”

“They are not an evil people, Anthony, but they are an extremely passionate species. We, as human beings, are not inherently evil yet you deal with the results of humans in your work every day. What would you have me say?”

“Ducky, I see your point.” Tony turned toward the doors. “Thanks!”

As he rode the elevator back up to the main floor, he wondered if he hadn’t already made up his mind.  Yes, he was still frightened.  Not over the blood thing. It was the power, the intensity of the man that was frightening. No. In reality it was worse than all of that. Nothing evil. Nothing demanding. Nothing so cruel. The explanation was much simpler. It was the absolute beauty of the man that was, currently, so very terrifying to him. That was the factor that would call Tony to serve him. The richness of him, the honor, the honesty that he knew was there. 

Tony knew he had always wanted his attention, craved those headslaps, begged for the extremely rare “Attaboy.” What was truly frightening now was the possibility that what he desired was there in front of him if he wanted it. Oh, the horror. His, for the taking.

Tony wanted to belong to Gbbs. He needed to be his. All the cons, all the words Ducky had used to explain meant nothing to him. He wanted Gibbs, however he could get him. He also wanted to be there for Gibbs.

Suddenly, he wasn’t scared any more. Nothing frightened him. The horror was no more. The man was solid, right there in front of him. Right there. Silver hair. Icy blues. Flesh and blood.

Gibbs was sitting at his desk, reading the paper. Virtually surrounded by a multitude of informational screens, yet he had the newspaper spread out in front of him. Tony stopped at his desk.

“Something bothering you, DiNozzo?”

“Yeah, Boss, I…”

“Business or personal?” Gibbs interrupted.

“Personal.”

“Not at work then. Friday night. My place for supper.”

“That far away, Boss?”

Gibbs frowned at him. “I said a week, I meant a week.”

“Ok, Boss.”

Tony went to sit down, grabbing a piece of paper from the top of his desk. He crumpled it up and tossed it at McGee. Then he glanced back over at his team leader. His team leader. 

Team Gibbs.

There was a small smile on Gibbs’s face as he continued to peruse the paper. Damn the man, he already knows my answer.  Not fair that he already knows. Not fair that he’s making me wait out the whole week.

One thing, though. If this had been a movie, and Tony was the special effects man, one thing about Gibbs would have been different. One small thing.

But then, life doesn’t always give you every little thing that you wish for. Life wasn’t always fair.

But sometimes, every now and then, Tony knew that he would wish that his lover did have fangs. 

Now that would have been really cool.



The end... or is it just the beginning???