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The day after she got the tattoo, all hell broke loose.
Tony hadn’t wanted Abby to get more ink. He loved what she had, especially that cross at her back, and he’d traced the spiderweb with his tongue dozens—if not hundreds—of times.
It wasn’t a surprise that Abby wanted more ink, but Tony hadn’t understood this one. Why did she want a blood-spatter on her chest? The upper swell of her breast, in fact. That was his location, and not for any tattoo artist to touch.
But she’d been fixated, studying the database of NCIS cases, picking the perfect specimen after weeks of checking. Tim and Kate were a bit creeped out too, but they all tried not to speak of it too much.
Gibbs was just silent, but that was his way. He wasn’t their functional mute for anything. But Tony had noticed his appraising glances dropping for a second to Abby’s chest.
Tony had gone to the consultation, had held her hand and glared down the artist as the guy had pawed Abby’s breast, her pale-pink nipple puffy. He’d had an opening and had been able to take her several hours later, and Abby had been ramped up the entire time, Tony knew all the signs of her arousal, and as she’d taken a hit of ink—and pain—she’d climaxed, not once or twice, but multiple times.
When they’d gotten home, she’d just wanted to sleep, and Tony’d been horny and frustrated. He’d finally retreated to the living room and had taken care of his needs solo, a forbidden mental movie of him and Abby with Gibbs playing in his mind. They both wanted Gibbs, no secret there, but Gibbs didn’t do that, or if he did, he hadn’t made a move. While Gibbs might have swung both ways—they’d both privately admitted they thought so—he wouldn’t become involved with team members. No way. No how. Even though Tony knew from Gibbs’ heated glances that given the opportunity and no Rule Twelve, it could happen, but neither he nor Abby were planning to leave NCIS, so it wouldn’t happen. Tony kept his lust simmering, but under cover. For now, anyway.
These things tended to explode.
Abby had been asleep when he’d gone to bed, but she’d stirred enough to snuggle in, her overheated body pressing against his cooler one. It almost felt as if she had a fever, her chest in particular very warm. Tony had gathered her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, and had settled into a restless sleep of his own, When he’d awoken, she’d been in the shower, and they’d barely kissed before she’d rushed out to her roadster, a can of Red Bull in her hands.
Tony hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of discomfort, the way he felt as if he was going to jump out of his skin. He’d expected some kind of bloody scene and a grumpy Gibbs when he got to work, but instead everything was quiet. They weren’t working a case, were just wrapping up paperwork, and McGee was running backups on their files.
These sort of days annoyed Tony, and he acted out, firing rubber bands at Kate’s desk, her sneer making him smile faintly. When Gibbs turned his laser-eyed glare on Tony, he just gave Bossman an innocent smile, and Gibbs rolled his eyes.
“With me, DiNozzo,” he finally growled and Tony obediently trotted behind Gibbs. There was something a little off about Gibbs—Tony had noticed it before, when Bossman would be a little pale, his eyes rimmed with red. Probably too much boat, bourbon and basement, he’d always figured.
Gibbs had just hit the elevator stop button, rounding on Tony, when Abby’s scream filtered through the elevator shaft.
“Abby!” Tony yelled, slamming his hand down on the button. As the elevator jerked back into motion, he stumbled and Gibbs grabbed his arm. “Easy, Tony,” he said, his voice more controlled than Tony could have imagined it would be. He rounded on Gibbs, intending to open his mouth, but Bossman’s eyes were…glowing.
Glowing?
There was no way!
But…there it was, the blue blazing.
“Boss?”
“Stay. Here.” Gibbs ground the words out, his jaw tense and tight. And as the elevator doors opened and Tony started to take a step forward, Gibbs’ hand shot out, slamming onto—no INTO—Tony’s chest.
Tony gaped, staring down at the hand—no arm—sticking out of his chest. It should have hurt. There should have been blood and guts and maybe an alien baby coming out of this—but it didn’t. A strange warmth filled him, settling his heartbeat.
“Shouldn’t have happened, but I need this,” Gibbs muttered, withdrawing his hand, Tony’s blood shiny on his fingertips.
Withdrawing.
His.
Hand.
From Tony’s CHEST!
“I…what?” Tony couldn’t even begin to make sense out of this. He could only watch as the hole, wound, whatever it was sealed under his shirt, the fabric of the snowy-white dress shirt knitting together as if it hadn’t been ripped open by whatever Gibbs had done. Tony could only stare at a single drop of blood on Tony’s shirt.
It was the only visual reminder he had that this had actually happened.
“Stay. Not safe for you.”
“Who?”
“STAY!” Gibbs repeated, growling the word. Tony saw the barest flash of fang before Gibbs closed his expression down.
Fang? What the hell?
“You turning all Lon Cheney on me?” Tony asked, resorting to humor, in the face of such an impossibility.
“Stay, DiNozzo.” Gibbs rushed out of the elevator and toward where Abby’s voice could still be heard, though it sounded a bit softer now. Gibbs’ voice, thundering at first, reminding Tony of the way Gibbs could be with Marines in interrogation, the sounds of a scuffle reached Tony’s ears. The elevator doors were open and Tony saw a blur, little more than a streak rush past, with Gibbs in pursuit.
For a guy with knee issues, Gibbs was moving fast. “Get Abbs to my place,” he called over his shoulder and Tony shrugged. That was the least bizarre part of the day.
He rushed off the elevator, finding Abby white faced and clinging to her lab desk. “Come on,” he said, pulling her close. Abby yelped, her hand going to her chest. She was quiet otherwise—far too quiet—her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her lower lip sunk between her teeth.
“T-Tony?”
She was burning up, heat radiating from her chest.
“Right here,” he assured, letting up pressure but still holding her closely. “We’re going to Gibbs’ place. Gibbs—”
“Gibbs fought that thing. It tried to get to my…” She waved her hand in the vicinity of her chest.
“Thing?” Tony asked, then shook his head. It wasn’t safe to keep Abby here. They could talk about it in the car or at home or at Casa Gibbs or wherever, but he had to get her out of here. Now. “Hold that thought. Grab your gear. We’re heading out.”
He flipped his cell phone open, and called McGee, asking Probie to bring his car keys to the elevator. There was no way Tony was leaving Abby alone for a moment, not until Gibbs came back or they were safely locked behind Gibbs’ door. If Gibbs would allow the door to be locked.
Images from various movies ran through Tony’s head, and he guided Abby to her personal items, tucking her skull backpack purse into her trembling arms, and slipping her jacket around her shoulders. It wasn’t as if he could fix any of this, or possibly even keep her safe, but it soothed him, anyway.
When the elevator doors opened, Tony guided Abby through them, hitting the button for the bullpen. He collected his keys from a wide-eyed McGee and rushed Abby to his car. It was only when they were on 395, heading toward Gibbs’ place in Alexandria, that Abby spoke again.
“It was a creature, Tony. It came in the window and was touching my chest. The tattoo.” She pulled open her shirt and Tony glanced over. Instead of newly healing skin, he saw bold streaks of red, puffy skin, surrounded by a black, almost burned ring. “Something he did changed it.”
Tony sucked in a breath, tightening his hands on the steering wheel.
“It was a creature,” Abby repeated. “And Gibbs attacked it. Gibbs! Gibbs! Where is he, Tony? Is he okay?”
“Think so,” Tony replied, looking down at the spot of blood on his white shirt. “He has skills.” What skills they were, Tony didn’t know, and the words, the connections, were so outrageous, he couldn’t force his throat to make the words. None of it made any sense at all to him, but he’d seen Gibbs’ hand go into his chest, and he’d felt some weird shimmer in the air that he couldn’t identify. Come to think of it, he’d felt it several times in the past.
“He told us to go to his place,” Tony explained, as if it wasn’t obvious where he was taking her.
“Gibbs is…magic?” She’d said that before, with waving hands, but it took on an added depth now, with all the craziness that was going on around them. To them.
“He’s something,” Tony allowed, hands tightening on the wheel. Abby moved as close as she could, pressing against his arm, the comforting warmth of her body soothing him. As much as it could. He was still fairly rattled.
He pulled up to Gibbs’ house, their harsh breathing echoing in the car. “Inside,” Tony told her, scanning the middle-class neighborhood for anything that seemed amiss. The streets were quiet, though Tony suspected that didn’t mean a lot. They weren’t dealing with things that made sense to him.
He came around, rushing Abby into the house and resolutely locking every door. Even though Gibbs never locked, he had to have a key, Tony reasoned. He and Abby made their way to the basement, where he perched on a sawhorse, arms around her.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
“N-no.” She shook her head firmly. “It burns, Tony.”
“I know it does. Gibbs will…” Will what? Fix it? Help her? What?
“Gibbs is magic.” Her voice was firmer this time and she nodded, setting her jaw in a stubborn line.
After a few minutes, a key scraped in the door, and Tony heard Gibbs’ comforting footfalls, the hesitation as he reached the basement door, then one, no two, sets of footsteps coming down.
“How is she?” Gibbs asked, Ducky trailing him. They’d never looked more serious, and Tony’s hands reflexively clenched around Abby.
“Shaken. Like me.” Tony motioned to his chest. “What the hell was all of that?’
“Needed your blood to stop the poison,” Gibbs replied, as if it should have been obvious.
“Poison?” Abby asked, her voice shaking.
“Bad blood. Let me see,” Ducky said gently. Abby squirmed as he parted her shirt. The black area seemed to have shrunk, the entire tattoo looking less red and inflamed. “Well done, Jethro. Good thinking on your feet. Why, this reminds me of a time—”
“Duck!”
“Very well. They don’t know, do they?”
Gibbs shook his head.
“Well, then, we’d better tell them the whole story.”
“Need to know.”
“Yes, Jethro, they need to know.” Ducky sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Abby, how did you know to choose that particular tattoo artist? Was it one you had used before.”
“No.” She turned in Tony’s arms, leaning against him. “I had a coupon emailed to me and when I looked them up online, they had some great reviews and I just thought I’d try it.” She swayed and Gibbs poured a splash of bourbon in a jar, handing it to her. “He made me feel a little weird, but Tony was there.”
“Weird how?” Ducky asked gently.
“Turned on,” Abby admitted, and Tony didn’t fail to her the low grunt Gibbs made and the flare of need in his eyes.
“Ah yes. He’s a demon, my darling. You mustn’t go anywhere near him, and certainly don’t let him touch you or ink you ever again. That tattoo was infecting your blood and could have…Oh I shouldn’t even say what it might have done.”
“Demon?” Tony asked, blinking rapidly. “What does that make you, Gibbs?” It seemed like a perfectly reasonable question, given the fact that the man had his hand in Tony’s chest.
“Demon hunter, vampire.” Gibbs shrugged, as if it was obvious.
“See, he is magic!” Abby declared. “But what do we do? How do we get rid of it?” she asked, waving at her chest again. She was taking this a hell of a lot easier than Tony was.
“Tony’s blood, that of a non-paranormal warrior of the good, has stopped the spread, but we need to undertake a more permanent solution and get that blasted thing off your skin. There’s a poultice and a tincture I can give you, but really, the best option is…”
“Is?” Abby asked.
“A blood exchange from one very strong. A magical one with a purity in his blood and goodness in his soul. The antibodies he’ll impart to you will help you heal all the more quickly, not to mention protecting you—protecting you both—from any future attacks. Gibbs has dealt with the demon and will follow up with the council, who are investigating right now. Trust me, they’ll get to the bottom of this, freeing us to fix your situation, Abby.”
“Okay, how’s that work?” How could she sound so reasonable when Tony was floored by this all. And what the hell was Ducky, who obviously had been read in on this mess.
Ducky cleared his throat and looked away.
“Sexually,” Gibbs finished when the silence got to be too much. “I’ll need to connect with you—and DiNozzo—to make sure you’re protected.”
Abby shivered in his arms and Tony could only gulp hard against the wave of arousal that swamped him, hardening his cock, Abby’s musk suddenly spicing the air.
“Ah, I do think I had better go now,” Ducky said, all but scurrying up the stairs.
“Bedroom,” Gibbs said, jerking his head toward the stairs. This was going to be a hell of a night. “You good with this, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked, raw need etched into every line of his face.
“Real good.” It seemed he was going to get what he wanted after all, just in an unexpected way.
“Glad to hear it. Upstairs. Now.”
“On it, Boss.”