Tony DiNozzo looked at his lover. "Should I even bother to make coffee?"
Gibbs looked at him, blue eyes nearly crackling in outrage. "Make the damned coffee." Gibbs had both wrists in casts. He wasn't a good patient at the best of times, but since he couldn't wipe his own ass without the assistance of a shower nozzle, he was a downright bastard.
"Well, the pain pills are going to put you to sleep, so it's sort of a waste of caffeine," the younger man pointed out.
"DiNozzo, so help me, if you don't get those grounds into a filter in the next five minutes, I'm going to take a wooden spoon to your head."
"You can't even grip a spoon." Tony teased his lover, assured of his safety – at least until the casts came off. He did, however, prep the coffee without further delay. "So pills now or in your coffee. It's not like you'll taste them over the bitterness."
"Yes, pills. For *my* sanity, you will take the pills. If you're very nice and actually say 'thank you' for your coffee, I'll distract you until they kick in."
"Distract me, and I won't need the pain pills," Gibbs argued.
"You look like a little boy when you pout. It's disturbing."
"Whatever gets me what I want. I'm not taking the pills."
Tony took a deep breath and counted to ten. He shook two of the pills out onto the table. "Take them or I'll call Ducky and have him lecture you about the history of narcotics."