John isn't anticipating the embrace; they generally keep things professional at work, and any mild exceptions to that rule tend to occur in his office. But it's not as if he's going to object to it. No one else is here, and professionalism feels lower on the priority list than it might be otherwise. So he smiles, a little surprised but no less pleased for that, and turns to give Martin his focus, instead. He uncurls his arms from around himself and settles his hands at Martin's sides, his thumbs gently brushing against Martin's jumper.

He hums quietly, both in response to Martin's words and to the comforting pressure of his hand curling around the back of his neck. It's not unusual for them, but it's unusual for here, and he can't help feeling a bit spoiled.

It's an impression that only solidifies when Martin suggests he fetch the blanket. "Not doing this by halves," he murmurs, leaning in to press an impulsive little kiss to Martin's forehead. "Right. You handle the cocoa, and I'll handle the seating."

He doubles back to his office, already thinking of fetching more than the blanket. They could push a couple of chairs close enough together for sharing the blanket to be feasible, but it wouldn't be ideal. And if they really mean to hunker down here for a few hours, they might as well go all out. He haphazardly folds the blanket enough to make it easier to carry, and then bundles up the cot's mattress and pillow and carries the lot out front, near the larger of the two windows. Then he circles back for the frame.

By the time Martin's finished making the cocoa, John's reassembled the cot along the wall, where they'll have a comfortable view of the snow outside. "I thought this would make blanket-sharing easier," he explains, said blanket already draped over his legs. He draws it back a little in implicit invitation, canting his head towards the spot beside him.