BLEEDING OUT

2015 NCIS Secret Santa Gift Exchange
Recipient: dont_hate_me01
Prompts: include hurt/comfort Tony, Tony/Gibbs, vampires
Rated: Mature
Fandom: NCIS
Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo
Genre: AU Vampire
Warnings: see tags
Tags: slash, season 9, medical procedures, hurt/comfort, supernatural, vampires, bloodplay, kink, pain kink, angst, transfusions, medical procedures, trust, jealousy

Spoilers: Season 9
Takes place around Feb. 2012
Chapters: 13; Words: 30,600

Synopsis: Tony DiNozzo doesn't have a problem working with vampires at NCIS, but when the one vampire he loves, a long-in-the-tooth Gibbs, offers him eternal life, Tony isn't so keen. Before Tony even makes his final decision, Gibbs hurts him badly. Can this human/vampire love survive a clash of cultures, kinky spiked sex toys, and some serious health issues? Will Tony agree to be one of the Undead?

Disclaimers: I don't own NCIS. I used a few lines from episodes, included some of their cases, but the continuity is elastic. I made up the medical/kink/bloody stuff.

Beta'd by the very patient and giving Solariana (who also organized this SESA.)

Thanks to my friend Combatcrazy for being there to talk out far-fetched ideas with me. This story has been brewing for some time. I'm glad it finally had a chance to be written.

BLEEDING OUT

CHAPTER 1

Bleeding Out
Wynter Gordon

How does it feel to be my first, my only one, my curse?
And how does it feel to be my worst but my best?
It hurts.

You got a hold of my heart now
You took a piece and you cut it out
You crawled up under my skin, under my skin
I'm bleeding out
I told you no but I love you
I told you no but I'll let you
So take the rest of it, all, the best of it

I'm bleeding out

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In the darkest hour of the night, at a time when he should have been curled up in bed with Gibbs' arms around him, Tony was instead sitting on a cold, hard chair in a small exam room in the NCIS clinic. A large-bore needle, sticking into the crook of his arm, was connected by tubing to an infusion machine that was pumping a steady flow of blood into his vein.

The clinic, located in the sub-basement next to Autopsy, was deserted at this hour. Technically, Tony wasn't supposed to be there (Ducky would have a fit if he knew that Tony was self-medicating), but he figured that the situation that called for a bit of rule bending. Besides, the government had decreed that blood supplies were to be available round the clock to all federal employees in need – and at the moment, Tony was definitely in need.

NCIS kept a good supply of HV2x in stock, and the commercially manufactured blood, intended for emergency transfusions, was compatible with all blood types. Ever since he'd walked out on Gibbs (or since Gibbs had rejected him, depending on how you looked at it), three days ago, Tony had been relying on the synthetic blood to keep him going. This was only until Gibbs got his stubborn head out of his ass and came to his senses. And he was going to have to apologize, too. Tony was determined to accept nothing less, after what Gibbs had done.

It was the third time in as many days that Tony had used HV2x, but for some reason, this time the synthetic blood was not delivering the pick-me-up he was expecting.

Previously, Tony had felt improvement before the first bag was half empty. His senses had become sharp, and he'd felt strong and agile. Everything he'd looked at had a bright aura to it, as if backlit by some magical life force. This time, however, it just wasn't working the same way. Tony had been pushing blood into his system for over two hours now, and he was starting to feel like crap, with a sour feeling building in his gut. Suddenly afraid he was going to puke, he wrapped his right arm around his stomach and swallowed.

He needed air; the windowless treatment room seemed close, making it hard to breathe. There were sharp pains traveling up his legs, and he noticed that his fingers were going numb. Jesus, when had they become so bloated? Taking small breaths, trying to remain calm, Tony came to grips with the fact that something was not right. Instead of benefiting from the transfusion, his condition was deteriorating, and at an alarming rate.

Tony eyed his phone. It sat on a nearby rolling metal table amongst an array of medical paraphernalia. He badly wanted to call Gibbs, but that was not an option. No way. God damn it, the man had cheated on him! Plus, Gibbs had made it quite clear he didn't want him any more. Whatever they'd had between them, it had unraveled the minute that woman had come on the scene. It was as if Tony meant nothing to Gibbs any more, as if it had all been a big lie. Gibbs, who had declared he loved him, who had said 'I love you' in actual words, had all of a sudden changed his mind, and had gone chasing after a woman – after that woman.

"Well, let him lie with the bitch, if that's what he wants," Tony mumbled. "See how long she sticks around. See how well she watches his six."

"You leave, don't bother coming back," Jethro said. "I should have stuck to redheads."

Tony stopped on the pathway and turned to deliver a parting shot. "Like getting married has worked so well for you in the past. Go ahead. You'll be served divorce papers before the ink is dry on the marriage certificate."

"Maybe I'll do just that," Jethro replied tersely. "Better than some punk who questions every move I make."

Angry beyond words, Tony barely managed to hold his tongue. He got in his car and drove off, telling himself not to look in the rear-view mirror.

Tony laughed derisively at the memory. The sound was loud in the empty clinic. Damn him, damn him! Offering him love, such as Tony had never experienced before, and then snatching it away, just like that. Making him feel like he was nothing. If that's what love was, if that's what trust was, then he wanted no part of it.

Tony breathed deeply a few times, trying to calm down. That turned out to be a mistake. He started coughing, and couldn't stop; it was so bad he almost passed out, but eventually it ceased. By the time Tony had caught his breath, his heart wasn't pounding quite so hard. His throat was sandpaper-dry and he really needed a drink, but until the transfusion was done, he was stuck in this chair.

The gauge indicated that the level of blood remaining in the bag was going down, slowly but surely. It had better kick in soon, or else he was going to be in serious trouble. If he didn't improve…well, he didn't much like the alternatives. He could check himself into one of those programs that had been springing up everywhere lately, the kind that weaned you off the stuff.

Tony had been to a club Abby frequented, where certified-clean donors, each with a spigot inserted in their carotid artery, were strapped to the walls. Blood on draft – an expensive but safe way to sip. Just thinking about it made Tony gag.

Far more risky, he knew of an underground source where a couple of C-notes would buy you a blood-whore, off the record. As much as he hated the idea of using, Tony had to face the fact that he may just have to, as it became more apparent by the minute that the synth blood wasn't going to do the job. He didn't want to die, not yet, and he sure as hell didn't want Gibbs to know what he was up to, either.

If asked, Ducky would be able to provide a safe solution to Tony's problem, but going to the ME for medical help would inevitably lead to a phone call to Gibbs. There was always Jimmy Palmer, but even though Jimmy would do anything for Tony, he would try to convince Tony to go to Gibbs. And when Tony refused – which he would – Jimmy would pick up the phone anyway, and next thing you knew, a pissed-off Gibbs would turn up, demanding, 'What the hell d'ya think you're doing, DiNozzo?'

Tony hated that a part of him wanted Gibbs to come to his rescue, and that an even bigger part of him physically wanted the man. There was no getting away from the burning desire he had for Gibbs. The craving feeling had intensified over the long weekend they'd been apart, and it got so bad he had stomach cramps, and his balls ached non-stop. Just three days without Gibbs, and he was a mess.

Walking away, getting a transfer, or even quitting altogether had crossed Tony's mind, but how much worse was it going to get if he cut off all ties with Gibbs? If he was this bad now, he didn't even want to even think about what kind of shape he'd be in after a week out of sight of the older man. He'd probably end up like one of those people he'd seen lying in filthy alleyways, curled in a tight ball, puking and shaking in withdrawal.

And if he withstood a separation of a week, could he survive a month…or years without Gibbs…or…forever? Could he walk away from everything he knew, friends and family, cut all ties? Never see Gibbs again? But that's what it would take, a severing of all that tied them together. Tony rubbed his breastbone. At the thought of never seeing Gibbs again, his heart ached badly. No, he didn't have it in him to leave. For better or for worse, he was inexorably bound to Gibbs.

The problem was, after what Gibbs had done, there wasn't much hope of them remaining together. Tony wasn't sure he could forgive him, not unless Gibbs was willing to talk to him, to explain why he'd gone to such great lengths to get Tony to accept their relationship, but then had thrown it all away.

Hanging his head, Tony moaned and rubbed a hand over his face. He'd known what he was getting into, right from the start. He'd known Gibbs for years, had known what he was like, what a closed-mouth bastard he could be. So now Tony only had himself, and his own accursed weakness, to blame. He had walked blithely into this situation, and he was going to have to live with the consequences. Sighing, Tony knew it was going to be up to him to make the first move, and then to somehow get Gibbs to open up. It was not going to be easy, that was for sure.

Gibbs didn't apologize, and it wasn't because it was a sign of weakness, as his rule stated. No, he believed that a man should fix what was wrong. Tony snorted. There was no point in waiting around for Gibbs to do what was right because, according to Gibbs, he had done no wrong. Apparently, according the all-mighty Gibbs, coming home smelling like someone who isn't you isn't at all wrong. Leaving your sleeping lover, to go sneaking out before dawn for a tryst with a woman isn't wrong either. Tony closed his eyes and tried to think calm thoughts, but all he did was picture Gibbs leaving him, walking away with her.

He was brought back to reality by the pain in his arm, brought on by the pressure of the rapid transfusion. It hurt from the needle's point of entry all the way up to his neck. This transfusion was supposed to buy him time to recoup and think, but it was now near dawn, and he was due back at work in a few hours. It had to work; he couldn't face the day feeling like this, drained and ill.

Tony looked at the transfusion machine's settings. It was currently set to a level higher than what was considered safe, but there was still one higher setting. He was running out of time. Maybe upping it just that bit more would make all the difference. Tony told himself to go for it. He needed to finish up and get out of there before Ducky came in to work. He was always early, especially on a Monday, and Palmer and Gibbs wouldn't be far behind.

Tony wiped his sleeve across his forehead. Great, now his chest hurt with every breath. Tony swallowed, but there was a lump in his throat that was making it difficult, and his mouth was as dry as sand. He was wheezing a bit, too, not a good sign, especially for someone with scarred lungs like his. Damn it, this had better work.

"At least they won't have far to carry my body," Tony said aloud, with a humorless chuckle. He pictured them dragging his limp body into the morgue next door, and hoisting it onto one of the metal tables there. Reality set in. Ducky would perform the autopsy. Jimmy would assist. Tony couldn't imagine what that would do to his longtime friend. "I'm sorry, Jimmy, so sorry," he whispered.

With a shaking hand, he reached for the dial on the pump, and quickly, before he could chicken out, he changed it to the highest setting. "This had better work," Tony whispered hoarsely. Immediately, the whine of the pump increased as it forced HV2x into his vein at an accelerated rate. The resulting pain coursed throughout his body, so intense he bent double, crying out, "Damn you, Gibbs! Damn all you vampires!"

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