Note: First time writing FMA fic. Unedited.
Sleepless Nights
Sometimes there were those sleepless nights.
"'Nii-san, aren't you going to go to sleep?" he asked. It was twelve-fifty-three in the morning and the moon was not startlingly bright. It was nothing special, that night, nothing particularly worth noticing – just another few hours until it was light enough to travel, just another few hours to forget once more pressing matters came to attention.
"Hey, Al," said his brother with his face turned away, "I think it's going to rain tomorrow. Do we still have that umbrella?"
Which umbrella? Oh, that umbrella - the one that Ed didn't like so much because it was so deep and wide (or otherwise Al wouldn't have fit under it and his brother was adamant about that, no matter how he had reasoned that, being a chunk of armor, the rain really didn't affect him) that when he held it by himself a random passerby had commented how much it looked like the umbrella was walking by itself.
(WHO DID YOU SAY WAS SUCH A PIPSQUEAK THAT WHEN HE HELD AN UMBRELLA HE LOOKED SMALLER THAN A TINY DROP OF RAIN?!)
He spotted it propped up in a shadowy corner, its yellow duck-patterned vinyl shining in the pearly light. "Aa, we still have it."
Ed nodded from where he sat with the covers over his leg(s). He had his elbows on his knees and his head on his forearm(s) – automail under the real arm, since he hated resting his cheek on that unless it was during warmer weather. It was the middle of fall and nights were cold – or at least that was how he remembered fall nights. Windows remained closed and instead of kicking off his blankets, his brother wrapped himself up in them like a caterpillar.
"Aren't you tired, 'Nii-san? We were walking all day."
His brother shrugged. "Can't really fall asleep."
"Is it too cold?" He had been told once that when it was too cold, it was only natural for one to snuggle under the blankets, but then they became too hot and ultimately that was no help at all. Maybe he would try it sometime, he thought, sometime later. When he could.
"Not really," Ed replied, turning so that his profile was silhouetted against the tall glass window. "It's just…I'm tired, but not the kind of tired that I can just go to sleep and it'll go away."
"Oh." There was a long pause, in which an owl hooted outside, and then, "You know, 'Nii-san, you don't have to try so hard. It isn't really…"
"Ugh!" interrupted his brother suddenly, slapping his (flesh) hand against his face with a grimace and almost too much force. "I forgot the date! We're going to have to report back to headquarters again soon! That stupid bastard Lieutenant Colonel is going to really rub it in when we tell him we haven't found anything yet! I can already imagine that damned little smug smile of his; I swear if he does it to me again I'll punch it off! "
This was followed by a rather long string of words Al would rather not repeat.
"'Nii-san, you didn't let me finish what I was going to say…"
"And that other idiot Major who keeps on ranting about his daughter! He'll never shut up once he catches sight of us! All that 'Oh my very cute adorable daughter is already one and a half and learning how to say dada and will you please squeal with me?'" Edward let out an exasperated groan, throwing his arms above his head and falling gracelessly on his back and the covers lifted into the air as the back of his wrists hit against the headboard.
Thump. Clank.
Alphonse tried to smile before he remembered that facial muscles were required for that. "A lot on your mind, 'Nii-san?" he inquired finally.
"You know what, the air's real heavy. It's definitely going to rain tomorrow, if not before then. It'll be a pain to walk in," his brother replied. "All that mud'll be sticking to my shoes and my hair'll stick to my face. If anything gets into my automail it'll be trouble too."
"Maybe it'll be over before we wake up," Al answered hopefully.
Edward turned to him and smiled half-heartedly before turning to face the dark ceiling. He pulled his arms down shortly after, cradling his head with his palms (metal under flesh.) Alphonse listened for hours and never heard the other's breathing slow to the rhythmic pattern of sleep. That night he stared at the ceiling because it was the same ceiling his brother stared at until dawn painted the room crimson and yellow.
Morning, and as the Fullmetal Alchemist dressed he asked, "Sleep well, 'Nii-san?"
"Aa," was the reply.