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Remus hesitated at the end of the walkway leading up to the familiar house. He clutched the bag in his hands a bit nervously. He knew this was the right move, but he also knew he could easily fuck up the execution and make Virgil angrier than he already was. With a breath, Remus put on a smile and walked up to the door.
He knocked on the door to Virgil’s rental home and then stood back to wait. The door opened after a couple of moments so Virgil could blink at him.
“Hey Emo!”
Virgil sighed dejectedly. “You’re going to make me lose my new job before I even get there, aren’t you?”
Remus winced, but didn’t let his smile slip. Virgil was in a uniform which probably meant he was about to leave for a job. Remus probably shouldn’t have shown up at Virgil’s house right before he needed to work considering Remus’s rather… bad track record with Virgil’s jobs. Or Virgil’s lack of jobs, more like. To be fair, Remus hadn’t known he’d managed to get a new job after the Pizza Rat Fiasco. “No! No, it’s not like that.”
“Then was is it like?” Virgil asked. “I need to catch the bus, or I’ll be late.”
“I just…” Remus said. “Here.” He shoved the bag he was carrying into Virgil’s arms. “It’s an apology.”
“What?” Virgil asked, taking the bag. He looked at it with blatant suspicion.
“What? Do you think it’s a gun and I’m trying to get your fingerprints on it to frame you for murder?”
Virgil’s face screwed up.
“Oh, come on! I was joking!” Remus exclaimed. “Obviously, I was joking. It’s just a present.”
“I know you were joking,” Virgil said, “but being handed a random bag and having that idea put into my head doesn’t help with my anxiety, Officer.”
Remus frowned at him. For some reason, the use of Remus’s title made him feel uncomfortable. It probably had to do with how Virgil had implied he thought Remus would have him arrested if he snitched about Logan the last time they’d met. “I promise it’s not bad. Just open it.”
He finally gave in and looked inside the bag, his face screwing up even more. “I can’t accept this,” he said, holding the bag back out to Remus.
“Yes, you can,” Remus said, shoving it back towards him.
“Remus…” Virgil said. Remus glared at him. “I… I’ll take the chocolates, but not… not the rest.”
“Why not?”
Virgil did not respond, just pushed them at him again.
“Why not?” Remus repeated.
“You can’t just hand me a bag full of expensive shit and expect me to take it.”
“Why not?” Remus said one more time. “I’m good for it.”
Virgil’s expression darkened. “Just fuck off!” He dropped the bag and slammed the door in Remus’s face.
Remus bent down to grab the bag and then waited for a couple of seconds before he knocked again. “You have to open the door again to go to work,” he reminded through the door. “Unless you want to climb the back fence into the neighbor’s yard in your new uniform and get eaten by their dog.”
He heard a muted curse from behind the door and almost smiled. The door opened again.
“What’s wrong with my presents?” Remus asked. “I thought they were good presents.”
Virgil glared at him. “How did you even know?” he asked.
“About what?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “The notebook thing.”
“You mentioned them once,” Remus said, reaching in and grabbing the offending item. It was a lightweight journal with a purple and black flexible hard cover. There were three different attached black strings that could be used as bookmarks. He didn’t really know much about journals, but they apparently had really good paper. “You said you really liked this type, and wanted one, but they were way too expensive for you to dump cash on them. You said they’d be good for writing poetry.”
Virgil seemed unsure what he should say. “I said one not three, and you were drugged out of your mind. I was trying to keep you conscious. How the fuck do you remember that?”
“My mind’s like a steel trap!” Remus claimed hitting his own head as though to demonstrate. “You can get nothing past me.”
Virgil gave him a dubious look. “I still can’t accept it,” he said. “Those things are expensive, and I don’t know how much the matching pens are, but I can guess just by how they look.”
“Why not?!” Remus once again asked. “I know you wanted one of them, so why won’t you just take it?”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want your pity,” he said. “You can’t buy me, or whatever this,” he waved his hand at the bag, “is.”
“It’s not pity,” Remus said, scrunching his nose, “or any of that. It’s sorry, remember. That’s what I said. I got you fired, a couple of times, so I’m paying you back a bit for it. They’re just notebooks!” And… a couple of fast-food gift cards Remus had picked up on his way here, but he was going to hope he could slip those past his notice. “It’s probably not even expensive enough to cover your missing paychecks. It’s just me trying to apologize. In fact, it’s not nearly enough to repay you for the whole tying you up in a closet thing. Why don’t you let me drive you to work? I’ll even buy you something to eat on the way!”
Virgil stared at him, a war clear in his eyes, but then he seemed to fold. “Fine,” he agreed. “Buy me Taco Bell.”
“Sure,” Remus agreed. He handed the bag back to Virgil who took it and stuck it inside his house.
He looked at Remus, his eyes narrowed. “If a sex joke leaves your mouth at any point, I’m rejecting all of your gifts.”
“Repayments,” Remus reminded.
“Repayments,” Virgil corrected with an eyeroll, but some more of the tension that had been in his shoulders the entire conversation was eased.
“Hmm,” Remus said. “You drive a hard bargain, but I guess we have a deal.” Virgil stared at him, eyebrow raised. Remus thought for a moment, then “It wasn’t a sex joke! It wasn’t! I swear!”
Virgil held up a finger. “Strike one.”
“Ooo I get three strikes?”
“Strike two.”
“That was totally not a sex joke!”
“They’re not just for sex jokes,” he said.
“Fine, fine,” Remus said. “I’ll just keep my mouth sealed the whole time, how about that?”
“Huh, yeah,” Virgil said. “That sounds perfect.”
Remus couldn’t help but cackle, reaching over to pinch him on the shoulder.