Chapter Text
Except for the tiny hearing aids nestled in the canals of both ears, a note on SHIELD’s files, and the stock of zinc-air batteries in his room at the Tower, there’s no sign that Clint is deaf; in fact, he doesn’t even think that his teammates know about his disability. He’s confident in his ability to perform his duties just as well as a hearing archer, if not better. Ever since his battle with Crossfire, Clint has been 80% deaf in both ears, a rather substantial hearing loss that he’s lucky to be able to work past with the use of hearing aids and the fact that he’s often fighting from afar.
When their latest rival is announced, a creature that crackles with more energy than Thor himself, Clint doesn’t even think to be worried. After all, the Avengers have faced others with the same power, like Veranke, and returned unscathed, even if Tony bitched after about any damage to his suits or AI system. But when the entity released an EMP strong enough for Tony’s connection with JARVIS to sever with a loud pop, Clint knew it was best to stay away and continue, as usual, from afar.
The comms devices in their ears became a sporadic link as their enemy’s attacks disrupted the frequencies and even, according to Tony’s sharp voice over the static-heavy line the Avengers used, fry the batteries. Which is why Clint was not overly surprised when his hearing aids ceased to function with a faint fizzle. “Communications down.” His report is sharp, self-deprecation in his tone, “Will continue attack as normal.”
When the battle is won, Clint leaves on his own, not wanting to confront his team until he’s replaced he batteries in his hearing aids, although he suspects he’ll also need to replace the hearing aids themselves; it’s not too much of a burden, as he has spares in his room, but the blond doesn’t overly want to drag his sorry ass back home before he can hear again. And when did he start considering the Tower to be home anyways? .
It isn’t overly surprising that Steve is waiting for him as soon as he enters the Tower; what’s more surprising is the way the Captain’s eyes widen in understanding when he sees the small devices cradled in Clint’s palm. Deaf you? He asked, no judgment in sympathetic blue eyes as he trailed his fingertip from ear to chin and then pointed at the archer.
He’s not overly proud of it but Clint will admit that his jaw dropped open in surprise at that, questions bubbling on his tongue, but only a hoarse “what?” spilled out.
Steve just shook his head, gesturing that Clint should continue up the stairs to his room. After. He returned clumsily, right hand sliding across his left. Talk after.
It’s with some apprehension that Clint agrees and scampers up the stairs, returning mere moments later with his hearing amplified as usual by a new pair of hearing aids, which he indicated with a short nod to the other. “So, Cap,” The archer tried for a casual tone as he sprawled across one of the couches, eyebrow cocked at the other, “What need do you have for sign language?”
“I was hard of hearing before the Serum, you know.” Steve’s smile is faint, and perhaps not so different from the wary, sheepish one on Clint’s own features, “And I found it useful among the Howling Commandos to be able to communicate with them in ways HYDRA was unlikely to detect, let alone understand. If I had known you were deaf yourself, I would have signed with you sooner; I’ve gotten pretty rusty, I’m sure.”
“You don’t need to treat me any differently now, Rogers.” His reply came out harsher than intended, eyes narrowing on the other, “And I won’t have you treating me any differently because I’m disabled.”
Steve tapped the ‘v’ handshape to his forehead and Cint’s cheeks flamed from the admonition, “Clint; I didn’t tell you that I used to be hard of hearing to make you feel better about yourself, and I certainly don’t see your deafness as something that makes you less of a person in any way so quit treating yourself as an invalid and assuming I will as well.” He shook his head, sighing softly, “All that aside, we can’t have you unable to communicate with the team if your hearing aids die.”
“I read lips just fine.” Came Clint’s defensive reply, cheeks warming even further, “I’m not a liability to the Avengers, or Fury would have pulled me from the team already, and there’s no one on the team who thinks so."
Bullshit Steve sharply in response, pinky and pointer fingers extended as his hand jutted away from his chest. You think so.
The anger that had been swelling in Clint’s chest with the other’s first sign was quickly replaced with shame and the archer raised the fingertips of his right hand to his forehead. I know.
“I’m going to instruct the team to learn rudimentary sign language.” Steve continued softly once the defeated man across from him finally looked up. “I’ll quiz them myself, if I have to. Considering how many deaf and hard of hearing people there are, we should know the basics anyways.” He added when it looked like the other might protest. “Now go take a shower and rest up, alright?” The Captain stood and clapped Clint on the shoulder, “Worrying can wait for another day.”