Jesus has missed sleeping next to him too. Later when he's up and about again he'll talk to other people and they'll tell him things that will let him piece together exactly what happened when he was gone. For now he drops into bed as soon as he's urged to, watching Daryl do the shoe and knife belt thing. So soon as he's close enough Jesus tucks in against him, resting against his chest and letting out a slow sigh. It's like a final release of tension and he's just boneless there, arm around him and fingers grasping at the back of his shirt.

"Good." His face isn't visible when Daryl speaks but he smiles faintly anyway, then lifts his head to blindly press a kiss - somewhere, like his jaw or cheek or something, his eyes are closed. "I knew I had to get back in one piece or I'd never hear the end of it."

That much is relatively lighthearted, but when his voice drops into something that's half a sleepy rumble, it's more somber. "A couple times I thought I might not," he admits, "but in that 'business as usual' way. Mostly I just thought about getting back." To Daryl specifically, which isn't said aloud but is held in his tone. "So it was the only option. Stay alive."