The distance when they fought was nearly unbearable. Although most of the time, it was over a petty little thing such as who was going to drive that day to work or who's turn it was to take out the garbage, the grudges were held for a long time. The apartment they had come to share was deadly silent and neither bothered to exchange even the smallest of looks. They would sleep separately and wake on their own accord.
Chase hated this most of all. Wilson always kept him on schedule and organized. Put the Australian on his own and he became a messy whirlwind of confusion and chaos, pen balanced perfectly between lips and his clothing more often than not mismatching and askew.
Reclining in a chair, blues carefully observing the crossword before him, he propped his feet up on the table. Filling in one section, he dropped it aside and grumbled as he tried to straighten his tie. Chase was never good with the ties and he always had someone else tie his own tie before he wore it off to work. In the mornings, he would stand just in front of the mirror as Wilson's arms snaked around him, fixing his tie for him. However, when they were fighting, those arms were not there and Chase desperately missed them.
Tossing his pen to the table as frustration overwhelmed him, he pulled and tugged at it, trying everything in his might to make it perfect, the way he watched Wilson's skillful hands do the same every morning. It had been three days since the two men had spoken with each other and each staff member knew. Wilson was unordinarily chatty, feeling the need for conversation rather than the silence and Chase's attire was worse than usual.
"Damn it…" Chase breathed, giving up and leaving his tie loose at his neck.
He hadn't heard footsteps in the room, though. He only felt arms slip around his neck and start adjusting his tie efficiently.
"I—" Chase started but was cut off as gentle fingers ghosted over his lips and jaw line.
"You're a mess, Robert. You'll never learn, will you?"
Chase looked up to meet that gaze and only smiled broadly to the other. When they fought, they fell apart, both falling out of routine, out of their comfort zone. But when they were together, they fit and there was a uniform happiness set over them; not some fluorescent yellow pattern hanging over a lavender solid that Wilson often recalled as one of Chase's favorites and he could only cringe.
"I s'pose I won't."
Chase leaned up as the other made it a point for their lips to meet, returning the soft kiss. If it was a messy tie or two that would resolve the fighting, he could keep pretending he didn't know a thing about the art of properly wearing a tie. What Wilson didn't know wouldn't hurt him…