That was a lot of words out of Remus's mouth. That many words added up to more than the sum of their parts. Or something. But it wasn't hard to tell that Remus was a little antsy.
And it took James a moment, another moment of really watching Remus again for him to get it: Remus was nervous. About what James would think. About him. Over this.
First off, it was barely the eighties yet. It was practically still the seventies. Everyone was still a bit bisexual and... and, well, David Bowie sort of explained a whole hell of a lot. Not to mention, it was like James had much of any 'moral high ground' to claim as his own on that front. And even if he could have, he wouldn't have wanted to. Because it just didn't matter. The same way it hadn't mattered that Remus was a werewolf. Sure, part of him wondered if maybe it wasn't a little convenient, if it didn't helpfully enable Remus to avoid the idea of every having children or not. But that wasn't the point.
The point was that this was the perfect opportunity to show exactly how much he cared, but showing exactly how much he didn't care.
"Remus," he said again, sounding just a bit scandalised this time. "But-- Sirius?" His face was washed in incredulity. "Sirius? When I am clearly so much better looking?"
And James even managed to keep up the farce for another few seconds before a grin broke through.
He'd had a hunch that Remus was jealous, given the way Remus always seemed to be free and available and feeling very social whenever Sirius was off with some skirt. He'd thought that it had been Remus trying to make peace with the delusion that he was never going to have all that with somebody. And, well, not a chick, it seemed.