So have a little drabble about people complaining of being cold. Hey, I only have like, five minutes free a day. My brain was barely working even before it got frozen.
Ayrton just keeps complaining of the cold.
So Alain tells himself he does it because he's tired of hearing him, but the truth is he's feeling kind of miserable himself, and he just needs a comforting touch, although Ayrton is positively the last person on Earth he could turn to for such matters.
But he's the one sitting next to him, all the same, so he just gathers courage and takes Ayrton's hand between his.
"What are you doing?" Ayrton says, his voice just a touch high-pitched.
"Rubbing your fingers so you stop insisting you no longer feel them," Alain says, doing just that. He used to do this for Daniel when they were children, and the familiar gesture, the feel of Ayrton's fingers warming under his calms him in ways he's not sure he can explain.
Ayrton gives him a weird look, but he doesn't pull away. After a while, Alain gets lost on his own thoughts, and doesn't realise he's just holding Ayrton's hand until Ron is approaching to tell them their flight is finally boarding and Ayrton squeezes his fingers before leaning to take his bag from the floor.
Alain blushes and stammers an apology, or at least starts to, but Ayrton just smiles at him, small and tired but sincere, and tugs at his arm.
"Come on," he says, and if they walk a little closer than they would have a few hours before, neither of them mentions it.
After all, it's very cold still.