May 1, 1976:
"Flowers," James says, a maniacal gleam reflecting off his glasses. "Flowers are key."
Peter almost asks 'key to what?', but Sirius is rolling his eyes and Remus is looking amused, so the answer is pretty obvious.
"Not Evans again," Sirius says disgustedly. "Don't you ever get tired of talking about her?"
"Never," James says, throwing his arms wide for emphasis. "For she is --"
Whatever horrible metaphor he's planning on using is lost as Sirius launches himself off the bed at him, changing into Padfoot mid-leap. Black paws strike James firmly in the chest, knocking him backwards with an audible 'oomph'.
"Enough already," Sirius orders, changing back so that he can sit on James' stomach more effectively.
"Oh, let him up, Pads," Remus says. "It's too late for that sort of thing."
"Traitor," Sirius accuses, but gets up anyway.
"Flowers," James says again, as soon as he can breathe. "No woman can resist flowers!"
"What have you been reading?" Remus asks.
"James can read?" Sirius teases, but James is in full-on Evans-mode, and ignores the sally.
"No, listen," he says earnestly. "Girls love flowers, right? It would be seasonal. Tomorrow's May Day, after all."
"Today is May Day," Peter says. "It's well past midnight."
"Flowers," James says again as they all settle into bed. "It's going to be brilliant."
"Brilliant," Sirius says. He's laughing so hard that he thinks he might rupture something. "Just brilliant."
James glowers fiercely at him through his good eye. The other one is black and blue and swollen. Lily Evans has one hell of a right hook.
"How was I supposed to know she was allergic to pollen?" he asks indignantly.
"You couldn't have," Remus says, but his mouth is twitching in a highly suspicious manner. "Though it might not have gone so badly if you hadn't filled her bedroom to the ceiling with roses. Or, you know, if you'd taken the thorns off first." This last is too much for even Remus to bear with a straight face, and he joins Sirius and Peter in helpless laughter.
"I hate you all," James tells them, and puts the cold pack back on his bruised eye.
Author's Notes: Feedback of all kinds is more than welcome. This chapter, such as it is, is dedicated to goldenrat84, for providing inspiration, and to marauderswolf, for beta-help and the prompt.