"Lils, Lee Lee, my flower," James said, squishing her face together with his hands.
"Jamie," she replied, her voice distorted by lack of movement, "stop it."
"You have the best hair. THE. BEST. Sooo-ho-ho much better than his," he stage whispered, releasing her face and jerking a sloppy thumb at Sirius, who was currently standing precariously on the back of a sofa, showcasing his best moves to an amused Remus.
James sighed and ran a hand as delicately as possible in his current state over her hair, apparently mesmerized. Suddenly, he grabbed her hand and steered her to stand in front of the dying fire.
"It's just so red. Like red red, Lils. Ya know?" delighting in the way the flames flickered against the strands, creating even more shades of red than before.
Slightly bemused, Lily replied, "I had noticed, yes."
"And it smells brilliant," James stated matter of factly, beginning to nuzzle her neck while sniffing her hair. "Do you roll around in flowers every morning? Why do you smell so much better than Pads?"
"It may have something to do with the lack of dirty quidditch socks in my pillowcase," she replied, threading her own fingers through his untidy locks, sliding her hands to lace around the back of his neck, and thoroughly settled into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. Drunk James was mushy and sweet and cuddly. She loved it more than she was willing to admit out loud. To anyone.
They swayed dangerously and Lily began walking him backwards toward the overstuffed armchair by the fire. With an 'oomph', they landed on the cushions, James giggling profusely.
Lily adjusted herself to sit on his lap, laughing at his antics.
"You're drunk," she said, looking into his face, hands resting on either side of his neck.
James tweaked her nose, "Yep," he replied, adding an unnecessary pop to the 'p'.
Well, she thought, at least he knew.
