The advantage, for Tristan and Miles, of living directly across the hall from some of their best friends was that they didn't have to leave until thirty seconds before they wanted to be at home. It was highly unlikely they would encounter any traffic problems, they didn't have to account for if either of them had been drinking, and they had no need for the awful wait time between wanting to go home and getting there.

They left Grace, Zoe, Maya, and Zig only at the point that everyone agreed that it must be time for bed, or at least that they should courteously evacuate the living room so Zoe could sleep. They saw one another most days of the week, and if they really couldn't bear to leave the conversation they could have relocated back to Tristan and Miles' apartment anyway. It just wasn't that big a deal.

Tristan sunk down into the couch as soon as he made it inside the apartment, leaving Miles to lock up behind them. He looked up at the large West Drive poster on the wall; while Zoe wasn't the entirety of the picture, she was a big part of it, and certainly recognisable from it. "Grace really had no idea who she was when they met? Where did they meet, the grocery store?"

Miles laughed under his breath, unbuttoning the top of his shirt as he approached Tristan. "You're really wound up about this. Were you freaking out that whole time?"

Tristan nodded solemnly. "I may have seemed fine, but Zoe Rivas is a goddess. Gatsby Garcia is my favourite character from anything ever. And yes, I do know she's playing Daisy Garcia now, but Gatsby is just better. There, I said it." Miles laughed, finding it harder to suppress his fondness for Tristan.

"You're the only person I know like this," he said, resting his hand on Tristan's arm, just enough to establish a physical contact between them as they sat on the couch together. "Wait, they really named a set of twins Gatsby and Daisy?"

"Hey, I don't write the show."

"You would in a heartbeat though," Miles said, all dopey grin and lovebird eyes. Tristan wasn't as reciprocal as he might have liked. He shuffled slightly closer to his boyfriend, but Tristan pulled back just enough to make it clear that he wasn't going to initiate anything further. Something was obviously wrong, and he couldn't stand that. And it wasn't just about having his way with Tristan, either; he had been fine, physically affectionate all evening at the other apartment, and the moment they got back Tristan snapped into a defence mode. "Is something wrong?" he tried.

"Going to bed always puts me in a bad mood."

"Oh."

"I don't feel like going to bed angry tonight, even if I don't have a positive emotion to replace it. Can we just unpause for a minute?" Miles pulled away properly, knowing what Tristan meant by unpausing.

They were a couple that fought. Always about stupid, silly stuff, just so that they could reach a point where the tension became so much that they had to call it quits and resolve their tension in a more sexual way. It was just how they were, and it usually wasn't serious. Tristan suspected that Miles left dishes lying around or forgot to do the laundry just so that he had something he could get in trouble with Tristan for.

When they fought about something real, something of note, it took weeks to resolve. It would be much like the evening they had just had; they would be affectionate, happy, and totally normal as far as they were, and then only talk more about what was annoying them when it got to the point where they couldn't stop being annoyed on their own, where they just weren't ready for forgiveness yet. They both had to admit that the fighting for weeks wasn't a healthy way of dealing with it. They just weren't prepared to admit it to one another yet.

"Okay, you go," Miles allowed.

In a surprisingly calm fashion, Tristan began, "I think the reason I don't like going to bed is that you're always gone when I wake up."

"That's cute."

"No, we unpaused for a reason. You're gone so early because you're working too much and you'd prefer to be there than here with me, and you know as well as anyone else that that is why we've been fighting. I don't want to go to bed angry knowing you won't be there in the morning, and I don't want to go to bed in false hope you'll stay tomorrow either. It feels like I've been snuck out on by a one night stand, Miles. And we've been living together for a long time, it shouldn't feel like that."

"I didn't know you felt that way," Miles said, his mind racing through every other aspect of the fight they had been having, "the waking up part. I knew you were mad about work."

"Is it so crazy to think I might want to spend some time with you occasionally?"

"We were together all evening. I was home for less than five minutes before I came looking for you, Tris," he tried to defend, "and now you're about to exile me to the guest room, so that we can avoid each other tomorrow morning too?"

"It's not about the mornings."

"You just said it was."

"Right now it is. But it's not. It's about you working so much, and you're just avoiding the conversation. Besides, Miles, it's a Saturday," Tristan snapped. Miles didn't have a comeback. He didn't have a justification. He didn't have the guts to tell Tristan the truth about where he had been all day. Not yet. "What, no comeback?"

"I don't feel like doing this right now, Tris. You know how often we fight about this? I'm so over it," Miles said, "Unpopular opinion, but make up sex isn't worth it anymore."

"So what do we do now then, if you're so over fighting?" Tristan asked, "Try to pause it indefinitely until we forget we were ever fighting, even though you'll just keep spending your entire day at work? Call it quits?"

"Woah, Tris, I don't want to break up with you," Miles said, grabbing his boyfriend's hands. Tristan, surprisingly, didn't yank them away. "I just meant that I think we should talk this one out. Properly. Not in fragments."

"Fine. But if this going to take a while, I'm getting a cup of tea."

"Yeah, of course. Take your time." Miles sat patiently on the couch while Tristan boiled the kettle and brewed his tea, doing nothing but listening to the soft sounds of his boyfriend in the kitchen, finding some comfort in the domesticity of it. This was the whole reason that they had moved in together in the first place, after all.

Tristan returned to the couch and placed a mug in front of Miles on the coffee table without a word. He was ignoring the fact that he had done it, and he wasn't seeking thanks from the gesture. Miles knew that his grateful smile was enough and that anything more would be acknowledging the simplicity of the gesture all too much for them.

"So obviously you're mad at me for working," Miles started, though it wasn't his place to argue Tristan's side of it. If he couldn't get Tristan to open up then the whole point of sitting down together to work it out would be nulled.

"I'm not mad at you for working, I'm mad at you for always working. It's like you're avoiding me and I don't know why. Right now you're putting it on me, and that's not fair, but I'm not totally innocent either. But I'm the bitch here, obviously, and you're a saint."

"I never said that, Tris. But you can't have it both ways, you know? You can't have me sleep in the guest room and then complain when I'm not in bed with you in the morning."

"But you won't be there in the morning if you are in bed when we go to sleep, and that's the whole problem circling round again. We live together, I thought we were really committed to it-"

"I am-" Miles interrupted. If only Tristan knew.

"You can't just pick me up and put me down when it suits you." The pair let the moment linger reflectively for a while, letting the atmosphere settle. "Okay, you go."

"I'm sorry that I made you feel that way," Miles began, "I love you Tris, you know that, right? It's like- I just- some days I don't know what I would do without you. The last thing I want to do is ever make you feel like that isn't true." When they had first dated, in hindsight, it felt like just about all Miles did in their relationship was take Tristan for granted. The beauty of aging was that he had grown up since, and it wasn't something he would dream of doing anymore. He knew that Tristan knew that, too. They had grown up together; while Tristan was always going to be a drama queen, he had toned down some of the theatrics just as much as Miles had. They weren't the same people now they were the first time around, but that was what made their relationship really work.

"Apology acknowledged," Tristan said, an obvious dodge of saying that he was accepting it fully, "and I love you too. Of course I know you love me, idiot." He sighed into his cup of tea before taking a leisurely sip. "So what are you mad at me for?"

Miles shook his head. "I don't remember anymore. I just want you to stop being mad at me."

"I'm getting there."

Miles drained the last of his tea and rose from the couch. "You done?" he asked, gesturing to Tristan's mug. He nodded and passed the mug to his boyfriend.

"Thanks." Tristan's gentle smile, which Miles returned, was enough.

"I'm going to go to bed soon," Miles said from the kitchen, rinsing the mugs. Tristan stayed seated on the couch, stretching in preparation for standing.

"Likewise," he returned, as Miles finished up. They met halfway to the bedroom, and Miles gestured for Tristan to go ahead of him, following his boyfriend into the room. They got ready for bed around one another in comfortable quiet. Tristan climbed into the bed, and Miles stayed standing.

"Should I..?" he asked, gesturing towards the door. Tristan rolled his eyes.

"Get into bed, dummy." Miles didn't need a second invitation, flicking off their bedroom light and sliding into his normal place in the bed. Tristan immediately shuffled over into his arms. "I miss you."

"I'm here," Miles said, "especially since you let me sleep here."

"I'm sorry, do you want to sleep in the guest room?" Tristan quipped. Miles let it go as a rhetorical question, snuggling down instead. "You have no excuse to leave early on a Sunday, right?"

"None."

"Good."

"You know I don't ever just leave, right? I have my mornings timed around spending twenty minutes lying here with you. You're just usually asleep for that." It was an admission that obviously surprised Tristan.

"I had no idea," he said quietly. It almost made his earlier argument seem stupid. Almost. "Why would you do that?"

"Because you're beautiful? I love you? I'm thinking about how much I want to kiss you but don't want to weirdly kiss you while you're asleep? Take your pick, they're all true."

"Thank you for valuing my consent."

"You're welcome. Can I get a goodnight kiss?" Miles could just about hear Tristan quirking an eyebrow at him. "Please?"

"Since you asked so nicely." Tristan kissed Miles gently, the pair exchanging lazy kisses for a few minutes, before they murmured I love yous to one another and settled down in peaceful quiet. They were both awake still, neither making an effort to sleep, but neither wanted to do anything but share the time cuddling either.

Tristan's phone buzzing on the nightstand startled them both in their drifting off. "You forgot to silence your phone," Miles said, sleepily pointing out the obvious.

"Thanks, Sherlock." Upon checking his phone and seeing it was a message from Grace, Tristan turned back to his boyfriend. "Do you want to hear more Zoe gossip?" he asked animatedly, and Miles couldn't do anything but smile dopily at his boyfriend and his enthusiasm.

He propped himself up on one arm, giving his attention to Tristan. "What have you got?"