His eyes had slipped closed before the Cajun had crawled into bed beside him. He'd feel that hand, of course; but, that was normal. Remy was always touching him. Always demanding that the Time Lord be reminded he was there.
What he hadn't expected was the press of that kiss. He'd allow it, he'd take that comfort, he'd press back and hold on. He wasn't upping the ante and if the Cajun tried to he'd just smother his face into Gambit's musclebound shoulder.
"Fine, meaning, I'm fine," he'd whisper. More like 'I'm tired.' Perhaps a bit of 'I'm hurting,' too.