The truth was that he was not okay. Carson was far from okay. He was at war, his friends and new family in danger by a force of unknown size with extremely hostile intent, a hostile force that included his own flesh and blood. A person, or people, that he or his loved ones would be forced to either kill or imprison. People that Carson himself may be forced to confront before long. When she pressed in again he held her tight, taking comfort in her softness even as he lay silent next to her. There were no words for how he felt, for the chaos that had been dropped on his lap. "If nothing else," he murmured, "at least now I know better than to try and assume you aren't capable. You saved me out there. I won't forget it."<br/><br/>When she rested her head on his he turned his nose into her neck and collar, squeezing her gently but tightly to his side. Sleep came swiftly, and for the first time in many weeks he was too tired to have nightmares of any kind. He slept deeply and soundly, and may have continued well into the day if not for the stirring of a soft body against his own, the feel of warm soft lips playing along his torso. He felt himself stir, his length waking up slightly ahead of the rest of him, and he opened his eyes to see Malia down near his waist. "Oh," he said softly, lifting one hand to comb through her dark hair. "Very good morning, it looks like, unless you just woke up there." He felt himself stirring further, and his legs spread a little wider as his cock pushed against his sweatpants.