A/N: A short one shot while I work on something longer. I have a few ideas I'm playing with that will be multi chapter stories. I even found two on my tablet from early 2014. Hopefully I'll be able to work on the 6 I have started.
No beta - all mistakes are my own.

Silence, Beer and Food

It had become a tradition of sorts. One they didn't speak of but one they expected to happen now.

It had started early on in the programme.

A mission had gone bad, or worse. One of them would show up at the others door with a 6 pack of beer and they would sit on the deck or by the fire. Drinking. But not talking. Always sitting close to the other.

It had gotten to the point where it had happened so often that they each kept a spare set of clothes at the others house. They hadn't spoken about that either. It had just happened.

The sheets in the guest rooms were always fresh. Pizza or Chinese food would always be ordered and delivered to the door. The guest would always pay. Something else that had never been spoken about, but had always been accepted.

They never had any use for words. Neither of them could come up with any to say. And so they would sit in silence as they ate their food and drank their beer. They had gotten good at communicating without words.

They rarely touched during those nights. Not trusting themselves or the other. Some nights there was a hug. Sometimes it was needed. Sometimes she cried and he needed to hold her. Sometimes he needed to hit something, so they set up a punching bag in each of their garages.

Those nights were an unspoken agreement. Neither of them went out. Neither of them had other people there. Ever. The phones were always off and landlines unplugged from the wall. Laptops were never turned on. TV's were always off.

There were no distractions.

Just silence, beer, food and the others company. Grounding them to Earth. Reminding them what they fought for. Two people taking comfort that they were alive. Somehow.

He had come to rely on those nights. Needed them to make himself whole again. Remind him that there was still good in the world, something worth living for.

They had just gotten back from a particularly bad mission. They were all lucky to be alive. He knew she would be knocking at his door soon. He'd already ordered the food and started the fire. It was a damn cold winter's night, they wouldn't be using the deck. He already had a 6 pack in the fridge - just in case her 6 pack didn't cover the raw emotions they were both feeling.

He glanced at the clock as he heard a knock. Right on time. Quickly he made his way to the door and opened it wide. She stood there, bundled up for winter, with a six pack in hand, the delivery boy standing next to her.

He smiled and took the beer from her hand and let her pay. Once the food was securely in her hands - Chinese this time - she stepped into the warm house and let him close the door behind her.

Despite what those nights represented - losing people, injuries, losing a battle and running away with their tails in between their legs - he couldn't help but enjoy them. He looked forward to spending the night with her.

Sometimes that was all he needed. To know that she was still alive and sleeping down the hall.