Disclaimer: It's not mine!
Steel
Ed is cold. Al is sitting there on the step watching the rain as if it's the most peaceful thing on the world, and Ed's curled up in a ball, all he can feel the steel of his automail limbs cold even through his clothes, the uncomfortable hardness of the stone beneath him, the rain dripping on his head. With a huff of irritation, he pushes himself up and lays his head on Al's arm—better than nothing.
And really, steel doesn't make such a bad pillow after all. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine Al's warm.