Written for the prompt: "Ed/Ling: Xingese traditions - weaving flowers on the Ox's horn" for the LJ community fmagiftexchange.

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"This is stupid," Ed said, holding the basket of flowers. He scowled at Ling.

"It's not." Ling grabbed one of the flowers, a light pink one, and held it right up next to Ed's face, nose scrunched in concentration. "This one will do," he said decisively.

"Ling this is—stupid, it's just stupid, and I don't—"

But Ling just waved the flower in Ed's face, waiting for him to take it. "It will bring you good luck," he said, "and prevent disaster. Is that really so terrible?"

"Stupid," Ed said again.

"That does seem to be the word of the day," Ling said cheerfully. "Now, go!" He shoved Ed, sending him stumbling a few feet forward. "Make the ox's horn beautiful!"

"Don't say that shit so loud!" Ed hissed, clutching the flower to his chest, the basket still dangling on his wrist. "People can hear you!" Ducking his head, Ed walked quickly to the platform in the center of the imperial gardens where a large bronze ox's horn had been placed and, with a surreptitious glance about the area, quickly wrapped the stem of the flower around the thin tip of the horn and walked back. "There, happy?" he spat.

Ling smiled at Ed, the same stupid grin that never failed to baffle him. "Of course. Now your year will be filled with—"

"Good stuff, great, sounds perfect," Ed interrupted. "Can we go? Are you done?"

"You do not seem to understand the value of tradition." Ling frowned. "There is so much more to do!"

Ed groaned. "C'mon, you think I give fuck about all this? Lan Fan said she'd teach me how to do that freaky ninja psychic thing. That's why I'm here!"

"Sensing Qi takes years of training!" Ling said. "You cannot possibly expect to—"

Ed rolled his eyes. "Okay, squinty."

"You are being remarkably difficult," Ling observed.

"Life is hard," Ed grumbled.

"Not today it's not!" Ling said, pointing to the ox's horn. "Remember?"

Ed wrenched the basket off his wrist and shoved it at Ling, knocking the wind out of him. "I'm done with this," Ed said. "Let's go, I did your stupid ritual. I feel like I'm in a damn cult."

Ling held the basket, rubbing his stomach and frowning. Then he sighed, "I will never be able to make you appreciate my country, will I? No matter how hard I try!" He put a hand over his chest. "As emperor—" Ed rolled his eyes "—I am smooshed!"

"Smooshed," Ed repeated, baffled. "You mean crushed? You're crushed."

Ling waved a hand. "Your Amestrian sayings are strange and foolish. I do not need to worry over them."

"And you were saying, about appreciating cultures?" Ed said, sarcastic.

"Of course I appreciate Amestrian culture," Ling assured him, patting Ed's arm. Ed turned to look at the hand that seemed to have developed a mind of its own as it started caressing his arm. "Amestrian culture is very beautiful!"

He looked so damn thrilled, just standing there and squeezing Ed's arm, that Ed finally had to say, "Ling, I'd appreciate if you'd stop appreciating my arm. It's freaking me out."

"That is fine," Ling said, lifting his hand away. "I can freely appreciate the rest of you later."

He just barely managed to duck the punch Ed threw.

"Honestly," Ling tutted as he scurried down the garden path while holding his robes up so as not to trip over them, Ed's scandalized shrieking overtaking the sound of his sandals slapping against the stone. "Amestrians have no sense of humor!"