He gave a tired nod but didn't say anything. Neither of them did, after that. But it was a silence they both understood and so it wasn't a bad thing, just very telling of their respective ordeals.

Once in bed Matt leaned into Mohinder's shoulder the same way he had back in India such a long time ago, mouth pressed against the skin, one arm laid over Mohinder's torso to ensure he'd stay there. With the way Mohinder kept a hand to his chest and partially curled into him as well, it ended up a very mutual thing. Holding onto each other. Needing each other.

There was some problems winding down from New York but Mohinder's breathing and hearing Molly sleep close by helped Matt drift into sleep himself. He was too tired to dream but he was kind of fidgety in his sleep which was a new development since he usually slept like a log.

Whenever Mohinder got up (or something else disturbed them), Matt would wake. Instantly, knowing. But until then he had someone else's presence, this intimate, safe-meaning presence to help him keep calm.