Summary: You know, James Potter is a manly man. He doesn't have mushy, girly thoughts, he doesn't barley keep himself from declaring his innermost thoughts to the girl of his dreams, and he most certainly does not nearly faint every time Lily Evans looks at him… not at all. Yes, James Potter is a very manly man indeed.

Written for the HPFC "Almost Kiss" Competition

Rules: Write a fic about a couple who almost kiss but don't for some reason.

James Potter was many things. He was effortlessly handsome, hair mussed as if he'd just given a girl a good quick (or not so quick) snog. He was talented, both at Quidditch and Transfiguration, as well as good at just about everything he set his mind to. He was adventurous, he was brave, he was proud.

And right now, he was nervous.

Right now he was standing outside a portrait, vainly attempting to pat his hair down, to keep it from sticking up as it always did. Right now he had butterflies – butterflies! – in his stomach, the most unmanly thing ever. Right now, he was about to pick Lily Evans up for a date.

He could faint right on the spot.

James would, of course, argue that he was a very manly man but the truth of the matter was that he'd been nearly fainting a whole awful lot recently. He'd almost fainted the first time she smiled at him, actually smiled at him, a couple months ago. His vision had gone dark the first time she'd willingly said hello to him, and he'd felt his legs almost give out the first time she'd addressed him by his first name, the word gliding effortlessly across her tongue. He'd actually had to sit down when she asked him to Hogsmeade. And he was certainly close to passing out now, in front of her room, trying to build up the courage to knock.

Right. Manly James.

Just as he'd raised his arm, to knock on the door, the portrait in front of him rolled it's eyes, "Kids these days," the old wizard inside grumbled, before swinging open of its own accord, letting James in. James had been about to reprimand the portrait for doing so before he'd given the password – days like these, one never knew – but before he could utter a word, he saw Lily Evans, and the words were literally taken from him.

No nerves at all, Hogwarts' Head Girl had been sitting in front of her fire, reading a book. The way the fire caught her hair, deepening her red curls, and the way her lips were parted slightly in surprise at his abrupt entrance, made him fall in love with her all over again. There was nothing he wouldn't do for this girl, and he'd been about to tell her that too.

"Lily- " he started

"James!" She said happily, ignoring him, "I was wondering if you'd show up." Momentary doubt crossed her eyes as she said that, but then it was gone, and she was smiling up at him with all the trust in the world.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," James said to her, smiling down, aware that, if Sirius were to come up on them now, not only would he get hexed, but he'd never live it down either.

Still, James wasn't girly… was he?

It was this thought that accompanied him as he in turn accompanied Lily out to Hogsmeade. They were walking in companionable silence, both comfortable, when James suddenly blurted out, "Lily, I'm not girly am I?"

Her laugh made him warm inside, 'girly-ness' be damned.

"James whatever made you think that?" she asked after wiping away a few happy tears.

Well he couldn't very well tell her, could he? So he just stuck with the dull, fourth year, "I dunno" response, only leaving Lily to laugh at him again.

And so the evening continued, James saying stupid things, and Lily laughing at him. In his defense, she seemed to be having a great time, after all.

Good time or not, the evening came to an end all too soon, and James was stuck walking the laughing Lily back to her common room.

"I hope you had a good time, laughing Lily," he said absentmindedly, only causing her to laugh at him again.

Giggling, she said, "I had a good time, jolly James," she teased back.

"Erm… well… good," he said to her awkwardly. Of course, he knew what came after a first date. Typically, there would be a kiss. Yet James didn't know if Lily wanted to kiss him or (he admitted with shame) if he would faint if he did kiss her. As these doubts and countless others were whizzing through his mind, he noticed that she was disappointed – though only slightly showing it.

Turning away, he could tell she was hurt, even though she hid it extremely well, "Night James."

"Lily wait!"

She turned around, hope shining in her eyes, as he pulled her closer to him, holding onto her waist with one hand. The other he used to gently cup her chin as her eyes fluttered shut.

Ok. This was it. He could do this.

He could do this.

He was about to do this.

The last thing James remembered was leaning in, bringing his lips ever closer to Lily's luscious lips (ooh, he'd have to remember that one), before his vision went black, and he fell, like a sack of potatoes, to the floor.

Damn. Maybe he was a girly man after all.