He was setting out slices of bread, motions not faltering at Sirius' first statement. James took it for what it was, Sirius' nearly idle musings, not some sort of jab. In his youth he'd always intended to have damn near a liter of children. Well, maybe not a liter, but a few at least. If he was inclined to be rather frank, the prospect of having another child was a bit daunting. Merlin's blood, the last time he and Lily had a kid- well, just look at what bloody happened! Prophecies, nearly everybody he loved dead or suffering? Talk about a cosmic axe to go swinging about. Sure, there wasn't a rising darkness for any new potential offspring to fell, but it's not like he'd really expected the son of James and Lily Potter to be- what did the Prophet keep calling him? The saviour of the wizarding world? If he didn't know any better, half the time he'd been totally convinced he was stoned or tripping.
James wasn't sure if it was his desire to move on from such thoughts, but the sudden mental picture of Remus wearing dainty pink bra littered with tiny bows tore an irrepressible, shoulder shaking chuckle from his lungs. So help him, Remus was going to wake up in one. No, a white bra with little pink flowers. And perhaps the icing on the cake was that he was likely to attribute it to Sirius. Hmm. Perhaps not quite what was called for at the moment. The idea, however, was safely tucked away for future use.
Besides, it wouldn't be funny if Sirius wasn't in bed with him to discover it. Surely this was the anomaly, Sirius sleeping on the couch. Likely only meant the stairs had proved too formidable opponent for that much gin. Ugh. Why gin? He abandoned the inquiry.
He supposed Sirius had a point. Monogamy was a dodgy thing at best. Still, he didn't quite understand why things had to be so different between his two closest friends, it's not like anything was all that- Wait. Remus was a good bit older than them now. James' adoption of the 'older brother' mantle with regard to Remus made that fact remarkably difficult to keep in mind. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes at the whole muddy, convoluted situation, he poked his wand in the direction of the bacon, shifting it about the pan.
"You reckon it's got something to do with him being... er, older?" James pondered aloud. "I mean, it's not like he was ever quite so unsettled as us, but, I dunno, I mean- well, I don't know what I mean, but all that time on his own? Moony was always more 'settled down' than us in school, but you pile that on top of it and it's... it's got to count for... you know, something."
James had rather meant that to be a good deal more profound instead of coming out as half a question. The trouble with James' mouth and brain working in concert was that eighty percent of the time, it was flawless. The other twenty percent? Not so much. Frowning a bit, he turned back to tinkering with the bacon.