(A/N: Crammed for Feria's 20th birthday.)
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Desert nights are cold.
Al watches his brother pull his coat tighter around himself. Watches until Nii-san catches him watching and throws him an irritated look. "What?" he demands, the syllable harsh and sharp and fierce, but the slump of his shoulders betrays him.
"You're shivering," Al tells him because it's true. "And you're tired."
"M'not."
"We should set up camp here."
"I'm fine," he snaps. "I can walk a few more hours. The sooner we get there, the sooner we get your body back."
The sooner we get your life back, Al hears. There is a thin splatter of sound as the wind tosses sand against his hollow body.
Stubborn, stubborn Nii-san.
"We can spare a night," Al says. When there'a no response, he adds, "Please."
Nii-san looks at him, then. He never could say no when Al used that tone. There are times when he wonders if the order of their births has been mixed up, because it's Al who takes care of him. Quite predictably, he stops, sighs. Relents. "We're leaving at daybreak."
He shivers throughout the night, too worn out to clap up alchemy. Their fire can only do so much. Al wishes he can snuggle close to him, but he knows he's as cold as the desert night, so he just watches.
If he were flesh and blood, he could keep his brother warm.
If he were flesh and blood, they wouldn't be out in the desert in the first place.
Al wishes and wishes and wishes that he were normal, wishes until the world starts to flicker and he surrenders to dreams.