A/N: Right, this is my tribute to the Chuck Norris of animes, Fullmetal Alchemist, and my personal Jesus, Hiromu Arakawa. 108 might have made me tear up a little. Okay, not a little.

Not much, just a bit of brotherly fluff set about a year after Ed and Al leave Risembool. So Ed is 13, Al is 11 and a half.

Thanks for reading! :D I'm gonna go back to the corner of my room and curl into a fetal position in misery over the fact that FMA ended.

When dusk and then night falls and Ed doesn't come back, Al goes to look for him. He checks all of Ed's usual hideouts before finally finding him in Central's library. Surrounded by small mountains of books, Ed's face is buried in a particularly thick and dusty text.

Al almost berates his older brother before it occurs to him that he might be asleep. He carefully pries the book off of Ed's face. Ed's eyes are closed shut. He feebly bats away Al's hand before his head falls back with a grumble and a snore.

Al hasn't slept for nearly two years now, but he knows how important it is to Ed. Sleep is a way to forget about trouble and pain for a little. And Ed needs it more than him. His expression is so blank and peaceful that Al doesn't have the heart to wake him up.

He still needs to get Ed out of the library, though.

Only one way to do that.

It's funny, because back in Risembool when they were younger, Ed would give Al piggybacks all the time.

Ed grunts and shifts Al's weight a little to the other arm. "Man, you're getting heavy, Al."

Six-year old Al has his arms wrapped around Ed's neck. He loosens his hold so that he doesn't strangle him. "Should I walk, then?"

"No," Ed says. "You said you were tired. I'll carry you the rest of the way."

"Are you sure, Niisan? You're not that much taller than me-"

"Shut up!" Ed kicks a small pebble on the trail; it skitters away into the grass.

Al rounds a corner lit orange and yellow by a streetlight. The streets are almost completely abandoned; nobody is out this late in the night. It feels lonely, like he's the only person in the world.

Then Ed coughs and blinks bleary eyes.

"What the hell-? Oh."

He scratches his tousled head.

"No wonder everything was so cold…and metal."

Al remembers that it's winter. "Are you cold?"

"No," Ed says. His breath frosts in the air.

With eleven and a half years of experience, Al knows when his brother is being stubborn. But he lets the subject drop. Almost.

"You should worry about yourself, you know."

"Shut up."

"Niisan, you're sweating," Al patiently points out.

"Al, I told you, I can handle it," Ed growls through gritted teeth. A trickle of sweat rolls down the corner of his eye and the contour of his face.

"Maybe I should just walk," Al says. "It's not that far to home."

"Yeah," Ed says, adjusting his hold on Al's legs. "Exactly why I should carry you the rest of the way."

"But you have that bruise-"

"You're way worse off than me, Al," Ed interrupts. "See? Your ankle's all…swelled up. Bet you can't even walk."

"You're not even gonna give me a chance to."

Ed grins.

"…so anyways, the 'red water' concepts sound pretty interesting, but I don't think it'll lead anywhere. I'm not even sure if we should take it seriously. It sounds kind of fake-"

"Niisan," Al interrupts. He hesitates. "Maybe you should-I mean-you know-"

Ed quirks an eyebrow.

"Don't talk about it," Al blurts out. "Just tonight. Don't talk about it."

"Why?" Ed says flatly.

"…because it's your birthday."

"Yeah," Ed says. His golden eyes glint. "Exactly why I should talk about it."

He looks up at the half-moon half-hidden in the clouds.

"It's been nearly a whole year since we left Risembool."

Al knows what he's thinking.

"Two years since we've made that promise, remember?"

"Mom!"

"Mommy!"

Their mom emerges from the backyard garden, holding a small pile of tomatoes in her white apron. She waves.

"Mom, Al's ankle is hurt," Ed says, running up to her, Al still on his back.

Their mom drops to her knees and inspects Al's ankle. "Oh, dear," she says. "Well, it's nothing too bad. We had better put some ice on that."

Then she turns to Ed and smiles warmly.

"At least I can always count on you to look after Al when I'm not there," she says, patting Ed on the head. "Thank you, Edward."

"Thirteen years old," Al says optimistically. "You're a teenager."

Ed grumbles. His voice is cracking a lot more but he's disappointed with the lack of a growth spurt.

And something else.

Al knows what he's thinking. He doesn't want to accept it. Ed is afraid of growing older while Al's stuck in a suit of armor, unable to change. And Ed is afraid of how much time it is taking to find any leads to the Philosopher's Stone. How long it's taking to get Al his body back.

"Niisan," Al says.

"We'll keep that promise we made two years ago."

"You'll get your arm and leg back and I'll get my body back, too."

"Then we can go back to Risembool."

"So don't blame yourself for everything."

"Look after yourself, too."

"And…"

"I'll seriously kill you if you don't enjoy your birthday."

Ed smirks.

"Yeah, right."

Al doesn't smile, but Ed can tell he is.

"Happy birthday, Niisan."

"…thanks, Al."

Al carries Ed the rest of the way to home.