[A slow breath, one that could almost be a soft sigh, and Zexion's gloved fingers tangle with Fang's, tugging his shirt out of Fang's hold.
There's a fraction of a second where that might be all, but he moves forward instead, fingers still laced together as he moves Fang's arm back to curl over Arson. His own arm stays there too, body shifting forward just a bit to spoon behind Fang's, the blanket still over Fang's back a thin buffer between them, muffling the not-quite-warm-enough feel of Zexion's presence.]