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The cold on starkiller is bitter, the infrastructure not complete enough to have heating in all areas. Hux is bundled up; thermals under his uniform and his greatcoat fastened up to his neck, and he's just shivered his way through a tour of the latest ground breaking work before shuffling back to his office to wrap frozen hands around a steaming caf mug.
His office is warm enough, buried at the centre of the structure, but he still winces when the door opens and lets in a draught.
"Close it, damnit Ren," he snaps out without looking up.
"You could do these tours from a shuttle." Ren drops into the seat across from him, pulling his helmet and scarf off. "No one enjoys your little pissing contest."
"It's not about enjoyment, it's about getting funding to get the damned heating installed." He cradles the mug towards his chest, still frozen to the bone, and ignores the quiet movement of Ren getting up until a burning hot chest is wrapped around his back.
"REN!"
The heat almost feels like it's pulsing off him, into Hux's bones.
"If you get ill, it helps no one. My bed would be warmer, but suspect..."
"Not again." Hux snaps.
The last time, and all the times before had been mistakes. Not to be made again.
Ren said nothing, but Hux fancied he could hear the sceptical chuckle as the heat continued to pour into him.