There's nothing to be said, nothing to say at all. Not in the 'I have a lot to say but can't' way, nor was it a hostile silence.
It's just quiet, in the best manifestation that quiet could ever be.
There's background noise of the TV, but Shimomura turns it off with the remote. The quiet is suddenly silent for a second before the sounds of the of the wind and rain hitting the window punctuates the air instead.
Shimomura is wrapped in a nest of blankets on the floor, curled comfortably while Tanaka sits in an armchair, thighs pressed to his chest with his chin resting on his knees. Shimomura closes her eyes and breathes the kind of sigh one might associate with sleep.
Tanaka curls his fingers around his cool toes to warm them. Shimomura preferred blankets, thick socks and hot drinks over turning up the heating and Tanaka has no issue with the reduction it caused in his electricity bill.
Even if he tended to forget to put on socks, so his feet often went cold as a result. Shimomura opened her eyes a fraction with her cheek squashed against a pillow, she snorted at him. He knows what she's thinking.
The pair of them sit in the almost-silence and dim light and think.
About their own respective worlds, their work, their own social lives. More often than not their thoughts would turn to their counterpart in passing, only in passing. They wouldn't let it be their sole focus right now, when they each had their own personal dilemmas and issues to work through.
But they respected and believed that the other was capable of dealing with it for themselves, and trusting that the other would ask for help when it was needed or just desired.
They didn't need to say anything, it was enough to know that they could if they wanted.