Still numb from the power of his own dissolution, all he has the strength for is rolling off of Peter, hand still tangled in his. "Peter," he starts, glancing sideways at him, but there are no more words to say. He feels cold from the sudden detachment, already working his way closer to the warmth still cloying on his skin. Though part of him had hoped to draw it out until morning, he can only find happiness echoing through every exhausted muscle. That and he wants a little more time with Peter this way, without the urgency of flesh.

Fighting the sudden pressing of drowsiness that comes over him, he smiles. Not for any reason, but just because he's managed to find some small degree of peace in this strange dreamworld with a strange Peter. And it almost overwhelms him, heart tightening in his chest.

He can only hope Peter's alarm isn't going off just now, knowing by his luck he'll be stuck here for hours after Peter wakes, and the prospect of being in this place alone is almost too much to bear. He can't imagine what Peter went through, having to stay here with Sylar for years on end. In a place that's real but not real, at least he can do his part to alter such an unthinkable memory.

Wrapping his free arm around Peter's shoulder, he gathers him in against his chest, the pounding of his heart settling into a gentle bass line for both of their breathing. He'll greet the dawn when it comes, or perhaps the ten-o-clock, but for now it's far too tempting to chase it away inside this quiet moment.