"Did your mother really make you wear a sailor suit until you were ten?"
Tony froze, his fork poised halfway to his mouth, totally caught off guard by the question. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He should have expected it. Should have known it was coming eventually. It wasn't like Gibbs would have forgotten all the crap Tony had spewed forth while in that cell, more than a little afraid he'd be spending the rest of his life in one. No, Gibbs wouldn't forget it?no matter how much Tony wished he would.
He took a slow, deep breath, and put his fork down carefully, working hard to keep his hand steady. He had expected Gibbs to ask questions about his family at some point, just not so soon. Not after the older man had done so much to make coming home such a pleasant, comfortable experience. Tony thought he might get a short reprieve, at least a day, maybe two.
"Tony?" Gibbs sounded hesitant and unsure, so unlike himself. "I didn't mean to...look, just forget I said anything. I shouldn't have brought it up. I've got lousy timing. I always have. Just...I'm---"
"It's okay." Tony opened his eyes, reaching across the table to take one of Gibbs' hands. He didn't bother trying to smile, knowing it would look forced and unnatural.
Tony wasn't sure where to start. Honestly, he didn't even want to, but he didn't really think Gibbs would let it go. The man was a bit too much like a bulldog. He'd gotten his teeth in; there was no going back now. It was better if Tony told him than if he started digging on his own. At least this way, he could try and explain things, maybe make Gibbs understand.
There was no way he could lie, and pass it off as some sort of joke. The details he'd let slip in the cell were just a bit too honest. And his reaction to Gibbs' question only cemented that it wasn't something Tony could make light of or just dismiss easily. No, it was better to go with the truth. He just wished he was sure what the truth was.
Joe had spent a lot of time trying to convince Tony that he hadn't deserved bearing the brunt of his mother's wrath. Joe had told him time and again he hadn't deserved to be hurt, that abusing a child was not an act of love. Intellectually, Tony understood. Spanking and discipline were one thing, broken bones and bloody knuckles were definitely another. As a cop, Tony had even counseled victims of domestic violence that they were not to blame; that something would always set off the abuser, it wasn't the victim's fault. But when it came to his own life, sometimes it was hard to comprehend how it couldn't have been his fault. At the time, it always seemed that way. He'd done or said something to warrant getting hurt.
"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to." Gibbs lightly stroked the back of Tony's knuckles. "I should have waited for a better time."
Tony winced. There was no good time to ask about things like that. Probably never would be.
Tony bit his lip. He took a breath and looked away, unable to maintain eye contact. It wasn't like Gibbs didn't already know he was a first class screw up. So telling him this story shouldn't make him think any less of him. He tried to withdraw his hand, but Gibbs tightened his hold, squeezing gently.
"Tony?"
"It's okay." Tony repeated dully. It wasn't Gibbs fault he'd been an idiot and run off at the mouth. He sighed. It was probably best to just start at the beginning and get it over with.
"She didn't make me wear it." Tony kept his gaze on his half empty plate. "She just threatened to make me wear it until I was ten."
"Why?" The one word question was soft and encouraging.
"Because when I was seven?.I was in this school play." Tony cleared his throat, wishing he'd opted for a beer with dinner instead of water. "I was scared to be up in front of people and my teacher thought the play would be a good chance for me to work through it. She gave me a speaking part. Was only one line. No big deal."
He clenched the hand Gibbs wasn't holding into a fist, hiding it under the table. Tony was afraid his trembling would be too obvious otherwise. Even after all this time, the memory still bothered him.
"I had to wear a costume...little sailor outfit." Tony shook his head, thinking about the damn thing. He'd looked like the cartoon character on the Cracker Jack box.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to pick up the story again. "I wasn't expecting my mother to be there."
"Why not?"
The question sounded like Gibbs was clenching his teeth. Tony resisted the urge to look up and find out for sure. He cleared his throat. "Normally, she didn't bother with school functions. Wasn't really her thing"
Not much of his childhood had been his mother's thing. But the play was a fund raiser, a charity gig that all her society friends were going to. With Tony being in the play, all her friends expected her to be there. Appearances meant a lot to his mother, so she'd been in the audience for the first and only time that Tony could remember.
"I got stage fright." Tony bit his lip. "Just froze up. Couldn't say a word." He swallowed hard, still remembering that moment of looking out over a room full of people and seeing his mother in the crowd. He hadn't been able to move or speak. He was grateful he hadn't pissed his pants; it had been a close thing at the time.
"My mother was...well, embarrassed." Tony hedged. What she'd been was ashamed of him, and absolutely furious that he'd been unable to do such a simple thing that every one of her friends' children had no difficulty with. It hadn't helped matters when he started crying. She hated it when he did that. She must have told him a thousand times, 'real men don't to cry'.
He risked a quick glance at Gibbs. His lover seemed to be listening intently. Tony wasn't quite sure what to make of his expression. At least there was no condemnation or disappointment?yet.
"My mother came up and ushered me off stage." She'd actually put on a pretty good show of her own at the time. No one but Tony realized how angry she was, or how much trouble he was in. To the rest of the crowd Elizabeth DiNozzo looked like a mildly embarrassed, caring and understanding mother.
"It was later?when she was dragging me to the car after everything was all over that?she broke my arm." It had taken years for him to actually say ?she broke' rather than 'I broke' placing the blame for the injury squarely on his mother.
"Jesus," Gibbs whispered, his face tight with anger, blue eyes flashing.
Tony immediately pushed his chair back, tugging on his hand to free it, instinctively trying to put space between himself and Gibbs' fury. He knew he should have just lied. Even a bad lie was better than this. At least then Gibbs would have a good reason to be pissed. He wouldn't be angry with Tony for shit that happened more than twenty years ago. If he'd lied then Gibbs wouldn't know what a chicken shit coward he'd been.
"It was my fault. She didn't mean to. I was just being stubborn and stupid. You know me, Boss, not the sharpest tool in the shed." Tony nearly babbled in his haste to fix the situation.
"If I'd just said the line like I was supposed to. Or if I'd gone out to the car like she wanted, it wouldn't have happened." He should have been less of a big baby and not been afraid to go with her. She only had pull and twisted his arm, jerking him almost off his feet in the process, to get him to stop crying and behave.
Gibbs got up from the table. Tony continued to back up, attempting to put even more space between himself and the older man. Gibbs still looked so pissed. He had to find a way to fix this, to make it right.
"Tony?"
"It wasn't like it was a bad break or anything. I only had the cast for three weeks."
"Tony?"
"And I knew better the next time there was a play. I made sure not to get a part. Wasn't really cut out to be an actor anyway." His mother never came to another school function again, but Tony had learned his lesson.
"She only kept the costume to make sure I didn't forget how I'd screwed up. How much I'd embarrassed and disappointed her." Tony stopped himself from admitting how just having his mother mention the damn suit would make him blush and stammer.
"Tony." Gibbs trapped him against the counter. He raised one hand, and Tony flinched, telling himself he'd been stupid to believe Joe. No one else was going to understand. It was his fault, it always had been. He should have just said so and Gibbs wouldn't be so angry now. Gibbs would never blame someone else for his mistakes. He'd take responsibility for his actions, and it was only right for him to expect Tony to as well.
Instead of the slap he was anticipating, Gibbs lightly cupped his face, eyes no longer spitting fire. He looked...worried. "Breath," Gibbs commanded softly. "In...and out."
Tony obeyed automatically. He hadn't realized until that moment just how ragged his breathing was, how close he was to hyperventilating. He looked away, embarrassed by is near panic.
Gibbs patted his cheek, drawing Tony's focus back to him. "I'm not mad at you."
Tony searched Gibbs' eyes, not entirely convinced. "You are mad," he countered warily. He knew the signs too well.
"Yeah, I am." Gibbs' seemed to struggle to keep his voice even. "But not with you."
"Okay," Tony stretched the word out, not so much implying agreement as asking for clarification, green eyes still scanning Gibbs' face anxiously.
"I am angry with your mother."
Tony blinked. Gibbs was angry with his mother? "You...I don't--"
"You were seven, Tony." Gibbs smiled gently, blue eyes holding green. His expression hardened. "Stage fright isn't something to be ashamed of. And it sure as hell isn't something worth breaking a child's arm over."
Tony shook his head, torn between wanting to believe Gibbs and the firmly ingrained belief that it was his fault. He found himself repeating what his mother told him on the way to the hospital the next day. "Should have just said the line. If I wasn't such a coward---"
"You were a child, Tony. You. Were. Not. And. Are. Not. A. Coward." Gibbs emphasized each word, eyes daring Tony to contradict him.
Tony struggled to comprehend that Gibbs didn't think it was his fault. That he wasn't blaming him. It seemed almost surreal. Tony felt like pinching himself to make sure this wasn't a bizarre dream.
Gibbs gaze softened. "It is okay to be afraid once in a while. Everyone is."
"You're not." Tony could feel his face warming. He sounded childish to himself, but he couldn't quite fathom Gibbs being afraid of anything. Okay..uneasy maybe, or wary of say a ticking bomb or a coiled rattlesnake, something genuinely dangerous. Gibbs never seemed to be at all afraid of anything, and certainly not people.
Tony hadn't even realized he'd said the last bit out loud until his lover responded. "Not now," Gibbs admitted, "but I used to be."
Tony stared at him. "You were really," he hesitated, unwilling to accuse Gibbs of being scared. He licked his lips. "You were really?uncomfortable with being in front of people?"
"I really was." Gibbs nodded, his smile turning rueful. "Basic training took care of that for me."
Basic was intended to not just teach combat skills but to also build confidence. Tony smiled hesitantly. He should have signed up for a stint in the military. He probably would have if Sully hadn't been so adamant that he go to college.
"Unless I'm addressing troops, I still don't like being in front of a crowd." Gibbs shrugged. "It's one of the reasons I don't accept that stupid award every year."
Tony found himself chuckling weakly, leaning into Gibbs'. He sighed when Gibbs pulled him into a hug, welcoming the embrace, dropping his head to his lover's shoulder. "And all this time, I thought you didn't accept them because you thought they were stupid."
"They are stupid." Gibbs snorted, one hand rubbing the back of Tony's neck. "It's not a competition. It's our job?our duty. I don't want or need an award for doing it."
"They like to acknowledge you're hard work."
"I'm part of a team, Tony." Gibbs squeezed his neck, shaking him gently. "Don't do it by myself."
"I should have been wired." Tony snickered. "No one will ever believe me if I tell them you said that."
Gibbs lightly slapped the back of his head. His lover immediately tensed and started to pull away. "Shit, Tony, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have--"
"S'okay, Boss." Tony grabbed his arm, green eyes meeting blue. "You said a smack to the back of the head is a wake up call." He smiled, not wanting Gibbs to feel bad about something so minor, something he'd come to expect and rely on. "Slap to the face would be an insult, right?"
"Right." Gibbs still looked apologetic.
"I don't mind, Jethro." Tony knew the head slaps were just Gibbs way of making his point. They were proof that what he did and said mattered enough for Gibbs to actually make note of, expecting him to give his best and not let him get away with less. They were proof Gibbs gave a damn even before they started sleeping together, and their sleeping together hadn't garnered him special treatment on the job.
Gibbs frowned. "I don't want you to think I'm like your mother."
Tony shook his head. "Don't see how I could." Gibbs wasn't anything like her.
"She hurt you." Gibbs looked torn between being stricken and pissed. "I hurt you?"
"It's not the same thing." Tony countered. Gibbs had never really hurt him. "And you know it."
"Do you?" Gibbs asked. "Do you know it's different?"
Tony hesitated for a moment, giving the earnest question the serious consideration Gibbs' tone demanded. Gibbs and his mother had nothing in common. Gibbs barked, his mother had shrieked. Gibbs wanted him to do his best; nothing Tony did was ever good enough for his mother. Gibbs made him feel safe; his mother had always made him feel anxious and uneasy. Gibbs only smacked him when he genuinely deserved it, and Tony knew he deserved it. The head slaps weren't hard enough to bruise, much less break bones. His mother hit him whenever she felt like it, and never cared if she hurt him or not. She never seemed overly concerned with the injuries she'd inflicted unless they were likely to be noticed by someone else.
"Yeah." Tony smiled, feeling like he suddenly understood what Joe had been trying to tell him. "I know it's different."
"Good." Gibbs nodded. The tension drained out of his shoulders. "We're okay, then?"
"Yeah, we're good."
Gibbs leaned in and kissed him. It was a feather light meeting of their lips, chaste and sweet. "You want to finish dinner?"
Tony rested his head on Gibbs' shoulder again, grateful that the older man was willing to redirect the conversation. He knew the topic of his childhood and his mother would probably be revisited, but he just wasn't up to talking about more of it. Not tonight.
"Tony?" Gibbs patted his back. "Dinner?"
"Think I'm done." Tony closed his eyes. He was exhausted. The day had been one hell of an emotional roller coaster.
"Okay."
Tony hugged Gibbs loosely, relieved that he wasn't going to push it. Food could wait until tomorrow. He sighed. Tony really wanted to just go to bed and forget about the rest of the world for awhile. But he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep yet. There was still too much crap swirling in his head.
"You want to watch a little TV with me?" Tony could go for something mindless, something that had nothing to do with real life or him or Gibbs or anything at all.
"Sure." Gibbs kissed his temple. "Go turn on that technological monster you call a TV. I'll clean up in here."
Tony smiled. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." Gibbs stepped back. "Go on. I'll join you in a few minutes."
Author's Chapter Notes:
Tony tells Gibbs about an incident from his childhood. Reference made to child abuse.
Chapter End Notes:
This is part of the Risky Series. Follows Covering the Risk