Chapter Text
Tony slips into the house and slowly creeps up the stairs to the bathroom. The fresh bruises are starting to bloom on his skin and are truly beginning to ache. He doesn’t really remember ending up at Gibbs’ house or telling the cabbie the address. At the time, all he was focused on was getting out of the club before his companion could come back with his drink.
Gibbs hears the creak of the floorboards above his head. He instantly recognises DiNozzo’s footsteps although they sound sluggish. Instead of making his way to the basement, the steps head up the stairs. Gibbs listens for a moment. It’s not the first time a drunk DiNozzo’s crashed at his place instead of going back to his apartment. But this doesn’t sound like a drunk and stumbling Tony. He’s just moving about as fast as a sloth. Intrigued, Gibbs heads up the basement steps, through the kitchen, dining room, and living room, around the corner, and bounds up the stairs to the second floor.
He finds Tony in the hall bath struggling to remove his shirt and whining low in his throat as the movement pulls at the bruises and swelling. Gibbs gets a peek of the black and blue streaks across Tony’s back and immediately moves into the small room, taking the shirt from DiNozzo’s hands and gently turning him and then pushing the shirt up over his back to better inspect the damage.
“Christ, DiNozzo. What the hell happened to you,” Gibbs asks but he knows the answer. Tony’s never shown up with these kinds of markings before but it’s not the first time Gibbs has seen them on someone. “Come on.”
Gibbs leads him across the hall into the bedroom, Tony wincing with every step.
“Strip.”
Tony whines again and Gibbs steps forward to help him, carefully pulling the shirt over his head. Tony keens in pain as he lifts his arms. The endorphin high he was riding on is quickly fading and he’s starting to feel all the abuse his body’s been put through. Gibbs drops to a knee in front of him and undoes his jeans. They’re so tight he practically has to peel them off, no belt or underwear. He gets an eyeful but honestly doesn’t really care. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen in dozens of locker and shower rooms over the years. Gibbs helps him out of his socks and shoes to more moans of pain.
“On the bed on your stomach.”
Tony slowly moves to comply with the order, getting himself haltingly situated in the middle of the bed with his face buried in a pillow. Gibbs gives him a quick once over. Most of his back - thankfully avoiding the kidneys, his entire ass, and most of the backs of his thighs are crisscrossed with dark bruises, welts, and a few places of broken skin, still languidly oozing blood. He bites his tongue. He’s not angry at Tony, he reminds himself. He goes back into the bathroom and grabs some liniment oil, a painkiller cream, a bottle of painkillers, a pack of gauze pads, some antiseptic, and a glass of water. He strips himself down to his boxers and slides onto the bed, straddling Tony’s knees. He first cleans the slowly leaking open wounds with the antiseptic and gauze pads. Then he works the liniment oil into the bruises, avoiding the broken skin. He works the painkiller cream over the oil, rubbing it until it soaks in and quietly whispering platitudes in the face of Tony’s continued stream of pained noises. He finally wipes his hands off, shakes a couple pills out, handing them to Tony with the water, and double checks the broken skin to make sure it’s not bleeding anymore. He takes the glass back, setting it on the nightstand, and then lays down next to Tony, pulling him close and being as careful of his injuries as possible.
Tony tries to pull away for a moment, but Gibbs runs a hand through his hair, soothing him and ordering him to stay. It takes a few minutes but the fight goes out of Tony’s body and he snuggles close, drinking in the warmth of Gibbs’ body in the cool room, still in too much pain to feel comfortable with a blanket over his back. He rests his head on Gibbs’ chest and finally falls asleep to the even rhythm of Gibbs’ breathing.
Tony gets up to pee a few hours later. He heads back to the bedroom and carefully and quietly tries to collect his clothes and get dressed only to be met with blue eyes shining with the light from the street lamp outside, piercing through the dark as easily as they do the day. He’s ordered back to bed and he feels too much like a warmed over pile of dog shit to argue this time. He slides back into bed and Gibbs pulls him close again. He gets settled and within moments starts shaking. He goes cold to the touch and Gibbs pulls him in tighter, pulling the blanket up, even though the fabric moving across his battered and oversensitive body makes Tony’s skin burn. He starts sobbing uncontrollably and Gibbs presses kisses to his hair, whispering reassurances. He holds Tony through the worst of it, his chest tight with the knowledge that this is how his Senior has probably spent every night after a trip to the club, and every trip after a bad case. And he knows it's not Tony's first, there's an air of certainty hovering at the edges of his pain that can't be anything but earned. He sincerely hopes that Tony hasn't spent nights like this alone, but he has a sinking feeling that this is the first time he's allowed himself the comfort of another.
It’s almost an hour before Tony settles down again, hiccupping and apologising for getting snot and tears all over Gibbs’ shoulder. Gibbs shushes him and quietly cleans him up with a tissue and a kiss to his forehead. He tucks him under his chin and strokes his hair until he falls asleep again. It’s much more fitful the second time around.