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The beater car rolled to a stop alongside the sidewalk, the music turned down a little. Fangs turned to look at the other soldier in the driver’s seat.
“Hey, thanks man. See ya in a couple weeks, eh?” He thanked, sliding out of the passenger seat and stretching, before popping the trunk and retrieving his rucksack. He stepped back to the front of the car, slinging the straps of the bag over one shoulder.
“No worries, dude. Be safe - you know, the same goddamn spiel that Cap gives us every leave we get.” The other said with a laugh, to which Fangs snorted, adjusting his rucksack a little.
“Yeah, yeah. Now get going, ya fuck. You still got a few hours driving.”
The two waved to one another as the car pulled away from the curb. Fangs watched his fellow drive away, only moving to enter the museum after the car rounded a corner and disappeared from view. Thick treads of combat boots climbed the steps to the main doors, the large building lumbering before Fangs. It was a slow day, not too many visitors in the place. The more leisurely energy of the space was a nice change of pace.
Fangs leaned his forearms on the desk where one of the museum staff sat, momentarily distracted by a finicky printer. As she looked back up, she jumped a little, startled at his seemingly sudden appearance. The Canadian rolled his eyes at her reaction, but held an easy grin - an expression of someone at ease, relaxed and unbothered.
“He’s in the office. I’ll buzz you in.” She said, pointing towards the doors with a jerk of her head.
“Thanks, Tilda.” Fangs yawned, the jet lag beginning to catch up with him. She walked alongside him, escorting him to the door to let him into the “staff only” area.
“Hey, can I ask you a question?” She asked after a moment.
“Huh? Yeah, sure.”
“Why is his nickname Vertigo?”
Fangs chuckled a little at that.
“From what I heard, it’s ‘cause he almost passed out on a ladder when cleaning the skull of some big dino. I told Vert that it’s basically a callsign - there’s dudes in my unit who’ve gotten waaayy worse.” Fangs answered. “I joked he should join up - he’s already got the callsign, why not?”
“So, he shot that idea down in flames.” There was a mild bemused expression on his face as he remarked that, remembering the sheer offense Vertigo took to the half-joked idea. “Besides, I think he’d actually melt if he had to do a full ruck in full kit in the summer, fuckin furnace that he is.”
Tilda laughed softly as the two stopped in front of the locked door.
“So, why is yours Fangs, then?” She asked, as she swiped her pass.
“It’s cause of my teeth.” He flashed her a toothy smile, and sure enough, Fangs had fangs - his upper canine teeth were prominent. Nothing too extreme, but enough that it was rather noticeable when he grinned.
“Thanks for letting me back here.” Fangs nodded politely at her, as he stepped through the doors. She waved him off, turning around to head back to the front desk.
Fangs walked a little slowly, eyes scanning the space for the telltale scruffy hair. Sure enough, he spotted his friend hunched over his desk, papers spread in front of him as he processed some report or something. He reached into a side pocket of his rucksack, pulling out a small, newspaper-wrapped item as he walked up behind Vertigo.
“Looks like I’m your problem again.” Fangs stated, humour in his tone. All he received was a sigh from Vertigo who slowly rotated his chair, turning to look at the marine.
“I know, exercise let out a couple days earlier than expected. Sorry for throwin’ your schedule off a bit. But! I brought you a thing-” Fangs apologized, extending the object in his hand.
Vertigo took it gently, unwrapping the newspaper by tearing it off. A hunk of rock sat in his hand, surrounded by shreds of paper. A large curved tooth sat prominently in the middle of the rock, a few smaller shapes surrounding it.
“A mosasaur tooth?” Vertigo arched an eyebrow.
“It’s got a couple shark teeth next to it too!” Fangs exclaimed, happily pointing to the shark’s teeth. “Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact it wouldn’t have fit in my ruck, I’d have got you the skull I saw… but also I dunno how I’d pay for that one. Don’t think I can do an APR on a fossil.”
“Thank you.” Vertigo said as he placed the fossil down on his desk. Every time Fangs went on exercise or deployment, he always dragged something back for him. It was usually fossils, but sometimes it was a geological specimen of some sort.
“Here. You know the usual.” Vertigo told Fangs, pulling his apartment keys from his pocket. Fangs took them gratefully, giving an exaggerated bow as he did so.
“I know, I know. Don’t trash it, and don’t eat everything in your kitchen. Please tell me you got some nuggets in the freezer or something.”
“I think I do.”
“You’re an absolute saint , man!” Fangs beamed at him. “I’ll see you later, then.”
Vertigo watched as Fangs left, before turning back to his work.
Only to be interrupted by a coworker sidling up next to his desk.
“He brought you another fossil?” They asked, to which Vertigo nodded as he gestured at the new addition to his desk.
“You realize he’s courting you like a damn bird, right?” His coworker gave him a somewhat tense smile as they spoke. Vertigo flapped his hand at them, flippantly dismissing the remark.
The hissing of the shower filled the small bathroom as Fangs scrubbed at his skin, getting the dirt and grime of the exercise off him. Steam blanketed the space, coating the mirror and fogging the room.
A calloused hand twisted the knob to shut the water off, droplets dripping off of Fangs as he reached out of the shower for a towel. Wrapping the soft cloth around his hips after he dried off, he stepped out of the bathroom and dug inside his ruck for the last clean pair of shorts he had.
A few sniffs later and he decided none of his shirts were clean enough. They’d be washed later, sure, but that wasn’t his priority right now.
“Man… I wonder if Vert has a shirt I can borrow… Hope he doesn’t mind…” Fangs muttered, nudging the door to Vertigo’s bedroom open. Whenever he stayed at Vertigo’s, he would crash on the couch - it felt somewhat wrong to him to be in Vert;s bedroom without him there. Like he was invading or something. He shook the thought out of his head, tired eyes landing on a dusty slate blue pile of fabric.
He shook the fabric out, some fuchsia design on the chest. Sharp edged shapes fanned out from a central part of the pattern.
“Huh… Well, it’s soft. Whatever.” Fangs shrugged, pulling it on. It wasn’t as baggy on him as it would likely have been on Vertigo, who was a bit smaller than Fangs was.
Rubbing his hands together, he made his way into the kitchen.
“Nugget time, fuckers.” He grinned to himself, setting the oven to preheat as he scattered the little breaded shapes on a baking tray, about a dozen and then some. He puttered around the apartment, looking at the trinkets on Vertigo’s shelves, thumbing through a random novel for a moment.
Anything to kill some time until the nuggets had to be flipped.
And then again, until he could finally eat them.
“ Ow , fuck-” Fangs hissed, dropping the chicken nuggets on a plate, shaking his hand from the heat of oven-fresh nuggets. He sighed at his impatience, grabbing the BBQ sauce from the fridge and putting a large dollop to one side of the plate. Kicking the fridge shut, he padded over to the couch and sat down heavily, plate on his lap and TV remote in hand.
“Finally. Some decent fuckin’ food…” Fangs muttered aloud, flicking through TV channels as he waited a few minutes for the chicken to cool. He cycled through various shows and broadcasts, stopping occasionally to watch a bit of the news, a random cartoon or some other show that caught his attention for a brief moment.
Vertigo waved politely to his coworkers as he left for the day, backpack on one shoulder as he trudged out of the building. There were days he didn’t want to leave work - this wasn’t one of them. Too much paperwork today, and he was glad to leave it behind.
The radio came to life in his car as he turned his key in the ignition, the evening news in full swing.
“ -reports of a ‘Spider Human’ stopping another armed mugging has been taking the city by storm, with some people praising the vigilante for doing what police have been failing to do. However, many are also criticizing the individual in question, calling them ‘inhuman’ and ‘monstrous’, among other things. ” The newscaster’s even tone came through the speakers, making Vertigo’s shoulders slump and the heavy bruise on his thigh pulse as he remembered that fight from a couple nights ago.
“See if I try and help again…” He grumbled to the radio, knowing full well they couldn’t hear a single word he said. “Ungrateful, hateful, rude jackasses…”
“ The lead editor of the city’s newspaper is one of the most vocal critics of this ‘Spider Human’ and is calling for- ”
Vertigo smacked the radio’s knob, the station shifting to static as the bandwidth was changed. A scowl deepened on his face as he drove himself home, eventually changing the station so he didn’t have the static assaulting his ears anymore. The local rock station was a much welcome change compared to the news broadcast on the other station.
The sound of keys in a lock had Fangs perked up on the couch, pausing from idly watching some trashy reality show.
Vertigo shuffled into his apartment, kicking his shoes off next to Fangs’s combats on the little boot tray. He dropped his backpack on a chair by the small kitchen table with a sigh, his back to Fangs on the couch.
“Paperwork hell, huh?” Fangs piped up, seeing the dark circles under Vertigo’s eyes. “Ya look dead on yer feet, dude.”
“I feel like it-” Vertigo replied with a quiet snort, turning to look at Fangs. His response died as he saw what Fangs was wearing.
“Where- what- Take that off.” Vertigo murmured. Fangs froze, staring at him.
“Huh? The hoodie?” Fangs asked, a little surprised.
“Yes, the hoodie!” Vertigo’s voice was tense, volume raising.
“Sorry- I just wanted to wear something until I did my laundry and all my shirts are nasty.”
“Take it off!” Vertigo snapped.
“Okay, okay! Jeez!” Fangs replied, now also a little on edge. He yanked the hoodie off, pulling it over his head. He tossed it to Vertigo, who immediately shoved it in a corner of the small closet by the door of the apartment. Fangs now sat in just his shorts, bare chest on display. A couple scars littered his skin - enough that they were noticeable, but nothing too intense. Old wounds from his first deployment.
A tense silence filled the room for what felt like an eternity.
“So… you got some quarters so I can wash some of my clothes at least?” Fangs asked tentatively. A small ziploc bag of change hit him in the chest, as Vertigo went to his room and left Fangs in the living room.
Time passed, days blurring by as Fangs spent his couple of weeks of leave at Vertigo’s apartment. It was a welcome change of pace, but he found himself getting a little antsy with the want to be active as each day ticked by. He also found Vertigo to be rather on edge, even more so than the guy usually was. It wasn’t something Fangs wanted to push on, not with the timeframe at hand. A problem for another time.
Especially given that Vertigo was sneaking out at night. Fangs could tell that Vert didn’t think he was awake on the couch when he did, soft footfalls creeping across the old floors, the front door being closed so gently to minimize sound.
Not every night, though. Just a couple nights.
When Vertigo would return, he looked rough, exhausted and sore. It was still late in the night when he’d return, and Fangs was growing concerned about his friend’s health. The dark circles under Vertigo’s eyes seemed to grow deeper, his shoulders carrying more tension than they should be.
Vertigo sat on the couch while Fangs was crouched on the floor, repacking his rucksack as he got ready to leave. His ride was arriving shortly, and he needed to be outside waiting.
The tinkling of metal caught Fangs’s attention. He looked over to see a thin metal ball chain dangling from Vertigo’s hand.
“Don’t forget your tags.” Vertigo tossed the dog tags to Fangs, who caught them by the chain.
“ Shit , thanks.” Fangs laughed. “I’d have been in some hot water if I lost ‘em.”
“Lemme know when you get back to base.” Vertigo commented as Fangs stood up, rucksack in hand.
“Obviously.” He replied as the both of them moved toward the door. “Be safe, okay?”
“I’ll try. You too.”
“No promises.” Fangs smiled softly, gently bopping Vertigo in the shoulder as he unlocked and opened the door. He paused half-way through, hand on the doorknob.
“Oh, by the way?”
“Yeah?” Vertigo blinked, waiting for Fangs to say what was on his mind.
“I thought you were scared of spiders.”
The door clicked shut behind Fangs, leaving Vertigo standing by the door, frozen with the implications of what his friend had said.