Hand in Hand

Snow was cold. Shiro was warm. Keith leaned into him with a yawn, his arms folded around himself and the comfortable weight of one of Shiro's resting across his back and onto his shoulder. They were watching old movies. Shiro was, anyway. Keith barely paid them any mind, always getting lost in feeling and thought when they were like this.He had thought so, anyway. A hand curled around his, and Keith's head shot up to look at Shiro."Sorry," Shiro had said, ever so sheepish with a bit of a chuckle "Your hand's cold."Keith had hummed in acknowledgement, dropping his head back against Shiro's chest. "You're just a living furnace."