Prompt: "Are you flirting with me?"

"Your new glasses complement your eyebrows, Potter."

"Funny, I wasn't aware that they could talk," says James, glancing down at his companion. "They really ought to put that in the advert."

"Complement, not compliment. As in 'to add to in such a way that enhances, or makes perfect.' Honestly, someone needs to buy you a dictionary." Lily pats his shoulder, shaking her head in disappointment. But the glint in her eyes remains as she adds, "Though I suppose you've gotten by on good looks this far."

"Are you flirting with me?" he asks, his lips twitching.

"Absolutely not," she protests, grabbing hold of his hand. "It takes more than being a big Quidditch hero to get into my good graces."

Their fingers tangle together. "I suppose it does," he agrees.

She tugs him down onto the nearby sofa, causing him to sink down closer to her than is entirely necessary. She takes the hand that is not in hers and places it on her waist, while hers drifts to his collar. "You know, Lily, this feels a lot like flirting," says James conversationally, his fingers pressing warmly on her rib cage.

"It's a test," Lily replies. She narrows her eyes, all appearances of great concentration. His eyes crinkle right back, though his expression is decidedly more amused.

"Of?"

"How I feel about you." She moves her hand from his collar to the front of his shirt, curling it into a fist somewhere near his heart. Her gazes lingers there for a moment, and James isn't sure if she is lost in thought or simply tired of having to tilt her neck to meet his eyes.

He slides closer to her than might be considered a friendly distance. "How am I doing so far?" he asks, his mouth hovering near her ear.

"Terribly," she tells him solemnly. "I still feel exactly the same."

"Pity," he murmurs, his lips finding her neck. "I was rather hoping to be well shot of you by now." He feels her laughter building up as his index finger moves up and down her spine.

She leans back in an attempt to seek his lips, but knocks both of them off-balance so they fall off their seats. The laughter leaves them both freely now, and it is loud enough for the third party in the room to register their presence and peer at them curiously.

"Hello, mate," says James pleasantly from his vantage point of being pinned by Lily's various limbs. "Woken up from your nap already?"

"Da," says Harry, and James supposes he should take this to mean yes. The infant reaches out his arms, clearly feeling left out the pile that his parents have formed on the floor.

Lily leans upward to pull their son out of the cot, but quickly readjusts so the three of them are tangled together on the floor, Harry's legs kicking up joyfully between them. James makes eye contact with his wife and leans over to give her a kiss, a movement which is cut short by Harry promptly shoving his hand in his father's mouth.

"Point taken, Harry," says James, lifting his son so he is laying on his chest. Lily leans over the both them, her dark red hair forming a curtain around them. This time, Harry contents himself with playing with his mother's hair while they kiss. As they separate, James remarks, "Your hair goes well with the furniture, Potter."

Lily places a kiss on Harry's forehead and then raises an eyebrow, unable to hide her smile. "Are you flirting with me?"

He puts his hands on either side of her face, nodding. "Every day for the rest of my life."