Greg and Casey were a godsend, Bones decided. Between the two of them they got a meal ready, delivered, and handled and most of the odd tension dissipated. He'd have to bake 'em a pie or something when he was up to standing in a kitchen. Or standing period, the carpet was pretty damn comfortable for the moment.

"Black, two sugars. Thanks, kid." Bones sat back, medical kit squared away for the moment, head tipped up to where Wash was on the sofa. He looked a little better, he supposed, but more bedrest, proper food, and less stress would be good for him. "How you hold'n up?"