AN: I was going through my files and found this bit of fluff I never posted, so here it is! Fun fact: in my folders, it's named "heart eyes ".

"I'm tired," Alphonse says, hefting the relatively lightweight bag on his arm. It's not a complaint, though, not by a long shot; by contrast, his voice is full of wonder. He pauses, looks at Edward with a wry face and a light in his eyes. "It's so strange!"

"Is it?" Edward asks, not entirely sure what to say to that. He smiles back, though, because it's nothing short of impossible not to smile when Al looks at him, with his own eyes and his own smile after years of blank armor. "I woulda thought being tired would be annoying, when there's so much you wanna do!"

"I like sleeping, too," Al points out with a little shrug of still too-thin shoulders. It's such an innocent little gesture and his face is so intent as he says it that Edward can't help but laugh, slinging an arm around his little brother's shoulders. Part of him is still thrilled that he can do that now, that Al is really, actually here, and everything's gonna be okay now.

"Sleeping is pretty damn great," he agrees, then nods in the direction of the platform. "C'mon, let's not miss that train!"

"I'm just amazed you actually got tickets ahead of time this once!" Al teases, stepping up his pace. It's obviously a little difficult for him, but because he's an Elric, of course he's not gonna say that or ask for help or anything. Luckily, because Ed's both an Elric and an older brother, he knows anyway, and lets Al lean on him without saying a word. It's a mark that Al really is tired that he doesn't protest when Ed slides his pack over and takes it to carry alongside his own, too; earlier, he'd insisted that he could carry at least part of their clothes and things that were going back home, but Edward thinks that it's fine and he'll take it from here, now.

"Oh, come on! I've gotten tickets on time before!" Edward protests, not wanting to disclose that he'd actually made absolutely sure they wouldn't have to run because Al is, frankly, not quite up to it yet. "Sheesh, no faith at all in your big brother."

Al slows for a second, leaning his temple against Ed's cheek, before he pulls away and picks up his pace again. "I've always had faith in you, Brother," he says affectionately, and Edward feels a flurry of warmth rising in his core.

"Yeah, I know," he says. If they weren't walking, he'd ruffle Al's hair, but since they are, he settles for shooting a grin at his little brother.

They climb onto the train and Edward stows the luggage while Al sits down; he joins him as soon as he's done and follows Al's gaze out the window at the station. It's bathed in the hazy yellow light of evenings in Central, and the bricks are tinted various hues of warm gold and rosy red as people scurry about, trying to get to the right platform on time.

Ed lets his eyes drift from the window to his brother, who's still staring out with that look of wonder again. He has that expression a lot; it makes sense, because he's still getting used to experiencing the world in five senses again and that's got to be a good feeling, but it still makes Ed feel a little sad that he has to relearn all this. He takes in the way Al's fingers are slowly rubbing the bottom of his dark green jacket between them, taking in the feeling probably subconsciously, and notes the rise and fall of Al's chest with each breath he takes. It's ... it's wonderful to see him breathing again.

He reaches over and ruffles Al's hair. They're sitting down now, after all.

Alphonse turns to look at him with a little grin. "Love you too, Brother," he says, happy laughter bubbling up in his voice. Edward grins back, feeling a weird mixture of sheepishness that he never can say "I love you" as easily as Al, and pride that his little brother knows him so well that he doesn't need to.

It's not that he doesn't love Al, after all. Hah! That'd be the biggest joke of the century, someone trying to say that.

It's just that Ed knows he's supremely terrible at words and can never find them when he needs them, can never tell when the right ones are appropriate and when they're not. So he usually just... doesn't use them. Little touches, gestures, that kind of thing is a lot easier, and that's what he sticks to. And Al knows that, and it's wonderful, and Al is wonderful.

His hand is still in Al's hair; he strokes a few errant strands back from his face before withdrawing. Al smiles at him sunnily and then turns back to the window, but the hand fiddling with the buttons on his jacket moves until it finds Ed's own, and it isn't like Al needs words to get Ed to twine his fingers with his brother's. Edward smiles softly at the contact, even if Alphonse isn't looking at him.

The two of them sit quietly like that for a little while, each lost in his own thoughts. Eventually, the train starts to move, letting out its first loud whistle and then beginning to slowly chug its way down the tracks towards Resembool, the familiar landscape rolling by as the sun keeps sinking over the horizon. The hazy golden light fades into dusky grey twilight that melts into the darkness of the night sky, and eventually the stars begin to come out, at first a few here and there and then more and more until the sky is dotted in familiar constellations. Edward glances out at them and sighs tiredly, slouching down until he can stretch out and toss his legs onto the seat across from them.

"I kind of want to go out there again," Alphonse says, breaking the silence. Edward looks up at him.

"Out there?"

"Like we used to, but not exactly like that," Al explains. "I mean, when it's just the two of us and we go out exploring and wandering, but now if we did it we wouldn't have to worry about anything big, just helping people and doing our thing like we want to do, you know?"

"Yeah," Edward nods slowly. "I know." It would be kind of nice, he thinks. Very different, because there's no Philosopher's Stone or deadline hanging over their heads anymore, and also because he's not a State Alchemist anymore (how could he be, if he isn't even an alchemist? But that's another can of worms, one he'll devote thought to later. He's putting that off, thanks.) "We could go travelling again," he suggests. "Later, I mean, after we have some more time to rest, because I dunno about you but I'm ready to get a hell of a lot of rest, y'know?"

Alphonse laughs. "You deserve it, Brother!"

"Pff, yeah, I do," Ed agrees. "So do you."

Al is silent for a moment. Then he looks at Edward, the dim lighting of the train reflected in his golden eyes. "Brother?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?" He pauses, and then adds quickly, "And you can't laugh! It's silly, but you can't laugh!"

"'Course you can. And I promise I won't laugh, okay?" He sits up again, giving Al his full attention. This is probably another "how do I use a body?" type of question. Those questions hurt to hear, because Al shouldn't have to keep wondering these things, he shouldn't have to have grown up for four years without a body, but here he is and here they are. Edward can't go back in time and fix it. So he's got to do the best he can to make up for it now. It's not the ideal solution, but it'll do.

"Okay..." Al looks pensive for a second, like he's trying to find the right words. Ed can appreciate that; words aren't really his favorite tools, either. "What's... what's sleeping like?"

"What?" Edward asks, bewildered. "What do you mean? You've slept every night since you came back, you should already know what that's like!"

"No, no," Al shakes his head, seeming kind of frustrated as he squeezes Ed's hand (involuntarily, probably, if Edward had to guess), "I mean, sleeping at home. You know, when it's supposed to be regular, and not in a hospital. Without sleeping medicine, either. Normal sleeping. And waking up, and all of it."

... Oh.

"Well," Edward says haltingly, fumbling to find words himself to describe an already weird concept, "You feel more rested when you wake up at home than at the hospital. And it's nice sleeping in a bed that's yours. And you wake up and if you're like me and you wake up late when you're given the choice, you can smell Winry cooking breakfast because our room is right above the kitchen, and it gets you to get out of bed, and you go downstairs and everything is great because you're kind of sleepy but there's fresh, hot food. And... uh... it's more comfortable at home. Also, we have those great wool blankets, remember those?"

"And the quilts," Al nods slightly. "I remember Granny making those." He looks thoughtful, and then brightens. "And when we get there tomorrow, I wonder if Winry will make pie!"

"Oh, you betcha she will!" Edward grins at him. "It's gonna be great, Al, trust me."

"I do," Alphonse nods again, a little smile crossing his face. He glances out the window again, then back to Ed. "It's so ... weird, but good-weird," he says more quietly. "This is the first time that it's actually felt like I'm really, truly going home."

Edward isn't entirely sure what to say to that, but he's pretty sure his heart hurts again. It's a familiar ache, the pang that he gets every time he's reminded of just how much his little brother has been robbed of thanks to his past stupidity, but that familiarity doesn't make it any less painful. Four years since Al's had a feeling of home...

His own thoughts on "home" haven't always been very clear, but lately they have been Resembool again. Not the house on the hill and its ashes and ruins, either; no, home has started to be the Rockbell house. Well, actually... home has been the Rockbell house, and Granny and Winry, for a while. He's just been too stubborn to admit it.

"Yeah," he says after a moment. "Finally going home. Kinda weird not having some giant doom quest hanging over our heads, but hey, I'm not complaining."

Al laughs. The sound is like music to Edward's ears, though he probably would never admit it out loud. "I think we deserve some time off from 'giant doom quests', honestly," he says lightly, laughter still bubbling up in his voice.

"Yeah, me too. Hey, how long til we get to Resembool, anyway?"

Al considers that for a moment. "A couple more hours, I think, so we'll get there tomorrow morning," he says. "The last station we passed was Awrobut, so the next one will be East City. And this train goes from there to Resembool, right? We don't have to transfer?"

"Yeah, we're going direct," Ed says, slouching down in the seat. His lower back is starting to ache with that familiar dull pain that comes from sitting in one position on a train seat for hours on end. Stretching out his arms, he yawns and then lets them drop back to his sides, glancing over at Al. He's about to ask if he wants to play cards when his little brother shifts, pulling his feet up onto the seat and curling up at Ed's side, head on his shoulder.

"I'm tired," Al mumbles by way of explanation, giving him a little sheepish grin. "This is okay, right?"

"'Course," Ed says again, ruffling Al's hair again too. They lapse into another comfortable silence, Ed letting his fingers idly trail through the younger boy's hair as he leans against the seat and stares at the stars going by outside the window. Dropping his hand back into his lap he lays his cheek against Al's temple and lets out a deep, contented breath.

This, he thinks, is how it should be. How it should have always been, really. Of course, he knows that if it had always been like this, he wouldn't really have much of an appreciation for the knowledge that Al is tired or for the feeling of his little brother's head against his shoulder, or the warmth of his body at his side. So instead of worrying about what-ifs and what-could-have-beens, for once, he decides to enjoy what is, like the softness of Al's hair against his cheek and the soft sound of his breathing. He has his little brother back, and that's all that matters.

The stillness created by their constant motion under starlight gets his thoughts drifting, back over the past two months of rebuilding after the Promised Day, over Al's recovery and gradual rebuilding of his strength. Even further back come the memories of their seemingly endless searching for answers and safety—he thinks with sharp relief thank god we're done with that. Living with perpetual uncertainty is one of those weights that's ridiculously heavy, but you don't notice it until you're not carrying it anymore.

For the first time in a while, Edward lets himself think of their mother.

I hope you're proud of us, he thinks up at the stars, down into the earth, wherever she is. Oh, he knows she's well and truly gone, but in his more sentimental moments, he likes to think that maybe, just maybe, in all those molecules of carbon and hydrogen and nitrogen and oxygen and phosphorus and sulfur and trace elements that went back into the world, there's a little bit of her essence left. Maybe a little bit of her soul, somewhere out there, can rest in peace knowing that her baby boy is finally safe and whole, and is really, truly going home.

(Resembool is home, now, isn't it? Kinda ironic that after everything, it's still home in the end.)

Well, I hope you're proud of him, at least, he amends his thoughts. I'd get it if you weren't proud of me, because I'm the one who did that to him. That's a thought he's always had, ever since that day five years ago. He'd promised that he'd always protect Al, and, well, he'd gone and pretty much done the opposite—no matter how many times his little brother protested that he'd wanted to do it, too, the fact remains that it was Ed's idea, and that won't change. But he was strong, and he made it, and I'm really, really proud of him.

Part of him knows his mother would be proud of both of them, regardless of the mistakes he made, because she's Mom and that's just what she did, really, constantly forgiving people and praising them for what they did manage to do. Being kind, no matter what.

Heh. That reminds him of someone he knows, huh. He glances down at Al, intending to say something stupid and silly and mushy that he'd never consider if it wasn't late at night and that he'd probably regret saying anyway because he'd feel stupid and silly and mushy, but—

Closed eyes greet him, and a slow and steady, deep breath. And oh, stupid silly mushy sentences be damned, Ed's pretty sure there's a stupid silly mushy grin spreading across his face as he looks at his little brother—sleeping. It's a sight he's witnessed plenty of times over the past few months, but it's also still one he's pretty sure he'll never stop marvelling at, or at least not for a long, long time.

He leans his cheek against Al's hair and debates moving his arm to wrap it around his brother, but ultimately decides against it; he doesn't want to move too much and risk waking him up. Instead he lightly wiggles his fingers (on his right hand, the ones that are still kind of amazed they can feel) and then slides his hand into Al's limp, warm one, gratified when his fingers weakly squeeze back. God damn, he loves this boy.

Don't worry, Mom, he thinks to the stars. I'm gonna keep taking care of him. Promise. And this time, I really will keep that promise.

It almost makes him want to laugh; he knows that if Al was awake and knew he was thinking he'd broken the promise the first time, he'd be getting an earful from an irate little brother who can't seem to understand that it's all squarely on Ed's shoulders. They've had that discussion—argument, honestly—many times before, and he's pretty sure they're no closer to resolving it. Damn that Elric stubborn streak, right?

But right now, Al's peacefully off in dreams, so he can't argue. Instead, Ed can just sit here and hold his hand and feel more content than he has in ages, while the train trundles on into the dark, star-sprinkled night.