Chapter 8
Clint's good mood finally burst on Friday. He'd forgotten he had one of his mandatory psych appointments when he initially made the date with Charlotte. Still it would be over before noon and he could run to the store before heading home and trying to cook. He knew JARVIS could get whatever he wanted delivered but somewhere in his mind if Charlotte cooked for him he was going to cook for her.
Natasha had been more than happy to point out Clint couldn't cook to save his life. He argued he'd never had an AI to help him before.
Clint added kick Tasha out of his apartment to his to do list before Charlotte and Lizzy got to the house. Natasha would laugh and extract revenge on him on some later date but if he didn't she'd drop in "forgetting" he had plans.
There was a reason neither of them dated much. Aside from their emotional baggage. Still Clint promised himself he wouldn't think about that for now. Natasha had been telling him for years that he should see people outside of work. He tried pointing out that she never saw people outside of work, but she tended to respond in projectiles.
He did too but that was beside the point.
Still walking through SHIELD that morning made it almost impossible to hold on to his good mood. He saw the stares from the other agents. Sitwell in particular had a nasty glare that Clint wanted to shoot off with a particularly nasty grenade arrow. His therapist said not all problems could be solved with violence, but Clint argued many problems could be improved with a little.
Besides it was fucking Sitwell that cost Clint his hearing. It was only due to Nick and Phil that Clint still maintained a place at SHIELD. Any other agency would have given him a quick thanks for your service, here's the door. At the end of the day severe hearing loss was severe hearing loss even with the tricked-out hearing aids he had. Most of the time Clint didn't even bother to wear his aids at headquarters. Nick could sign and so could Phil. Natasha- ever the over achiever- could sign in three languages, ASL, BSL and Russian Sign Language. Apparently, Natasha felt the need to explain his bullshit in great detail in multiple spoken and signed languages.
It didn't escape Clint every time he learned a new language Natasha made sure to learn it too. Red in her ledger she called it, being a damn good friend, he called it. They agreed to disagree.
Natasha also pointed out once you learned a couple languages it was easier to learn more.
Walking through the SHIELD hall ways Clint regretted a) wearing his hearing aids and b) not taking Natasha up on her offer to come with him. Thanks to tinkering from Tony Stark, Clint could catch snatches of conversation as he passed. The aids sat so deep in his ear canal he guessed no one figured out he was actually wearing them.
That was stupid. Lip reading only went so far and this was a fucking therapy session. Every single fucking person at SHIELD knew he had mandated therapy. They should be able to figure out he wore his hearing aids to therapy- the one place where it was a good idea to make sure the person knew exactly what you were talking about. Strangely enough qualified trauma therapists for formerly top-secret government agencies who were also fluent in ASL was not a popular resume at SHIELD.
".....fifteen dead...."
Clint figured out quick why that particular piece of conversation jumped out at him quickly. Fifteen dead in the initial hellicarrier attack. Fifteen arrows spurting out of the bodies of coworkers. Fifteen sniper shots that no one else could ever hope to make and he couldn't even really remember them. Everything from Loki was hidden in a blue haze and Clint didn't know if he should be grateful or pissed.
He figured most of the time he felt grateful but that just made him feel guilty which made him feel grateful he couldn't remember more to feel guilty about which made him feel guiltier which made him feel...
Yeah there was a reason he was finally taking Phil's advice and taking the SHIELD shrink seriously. They'd been meeting three times a week since the week after the battle. Today was the first day Natasha didn't go with Clint.
He'd told her he didn't need a babysitter.
Boy was he fucking wrong.
By the time he got to Dr. Geller's office he could feel ever muscle in his body wound tighter than he could ever remember. Dr. Geller was a tiny five foot nothing young black woman who didn't look like she could ever qualify as agent. Still Clint did his research- videos from the gym showed her slamming guys three times her size into the mats with a kind of vicious glee Clint respected.
He'd also broken into her office and found 7 panic buttons situated around the room and about 15 obvious weapons and another 20 things that could be used if needed- all designed to incapacitate not kill.
"You wore your hearing aids here." she stated as soon as he sat down. Clint glanced up at her before nodding. He didn't feel quite ready to speak yet. "Well, that's a change in behavior. Talk me through it."
"Umm... well I have a date tonight." Clint rubbed the back of his neck, "a civilian. She doesn't know the whole hard of hearing/deaf thing."
"How did you meet her?" Dr. Geller asked. Clint prided himself on being able to read expressions. Tone didn't come through when lip reading, and he made a living as part of the best spy duo. Dr. Geller could give Natasha a run for her fucking money.
"Battle of New York. I helped her rescue a kid. The kid is actually staying with her. We found out last week the parents were among the dead in the attack."
"We found out?"
"I, uhhh, I saw her and the kid on the news. I wanted to check up on them. So, I did. Tony Stark helped find the kids parents." Clint explained. An hour later Clint felt hallowed out but better than when he started therapy.
"Well Clint, it's an unorthodox way to get a first date but that doesn't inherently mean unhealthy." Dr. Geller said as she closed her pad. All notes were hand written- in code- only and stored in one of SHIELDS most secure vaults. Natasha and Clint could probably break in, but they were two people on a list that was maybe five people long.
"However, it doesn't inherently mean healthy either." Dr. Geller continued, "I think it's a good thing. I think you are allowing yourself to have a bit of fun which is a way of forgiving yourself. But you know you haven't forgiven yourself yet. Keep an eye on your emotions. I want to make sure you're dating this woman- if you do date her- because you want, like and desire her. Not because you want or need to put something back together. You'll just sabotage yourself. Let's move our next appointment to Monday and we can go over how things went."
Clint fought with himself to argue. He did not need a shrink going over his love life. He had Natasha for that. Once Phil was out of his coma he'd have Phil back for that. On the other hand, he promised both those people he'd work with the shrink. He nodded to the small woman and got up to leave. Once he left her office he debated taking out his aids. He left them in. People would talk either way and he might as well hear what they had to say.
He left the small private waiting area and walked into the hall with his head held high and his aids firmly in place. The Brooklyn SHIELD HQ was an unobtrusive office building- one of thousands in the city. Clint walked from Bushwick toward Bed-Stuy. He wanted a few moments to think for himself. He could catch the subway over in Bed-Stuy and still make it back to Manhattan in time to go to the store and find food for tonight.
After all it was barely noon.
He walked past the historical brownstones of the neighborhood and further in past some of the more run-down apartments. He passed by drab grey building when he glanced in the ally and saw four guys in track suits beating on two young men. Each young man looked no older than twenty and frankly they could be as young as sixteen for all Clint knew. It'd been awhile since he'd been that age.
"What the fuck!" he shouted turning into the ally.
"This aint your problem bro." one of the track suit wearing guys growled as he continued to hit the man held by his compatriot.
"Yeah bro, move along." one of the other ones said.
"Yeah, no. That's not happening." Clint told them as he drove his fist into the nearest guy’s head. The guys neck snapped back, and he let the teen he'd been holding go. The other goon let go of his teenager and soon all four were facing him. Clint grinned wolfishly.
It'd been awhile since he'd gotten into a good brawl.
Sparring with Tasha didn't count- even if they did give each other some spectacular bruises.
"Kids, get out of here." Clint told the teens without taking his eyes off the track suited idiots standing in front of him. Up close the kids looked even younger. He now pegged them anywhere between fourteen and eighteen.
"You're gonna be sorry you did that bro." the biggest goon said cracking his knuckles.
"Yeah bro, you don't fuck with us bro." another said.
"Ok did you watch every bad frat boy movie ever made and decide that's who you wanted to be in your life? Cuz I gotta say you're at least a decade and a half too old for that and it just looks sad." Clint said as he darted in and kicked the biggest one under the chin. He went down with a crash that set the others off. Soon all three were attacking at once.
Clint wasn't sure where the teens had ended up, but he figured they were long gone. At least he hoped so. He was dragging this fight out and he knew it. Maybe not the best idea on a night where he had a date just in case one of the fuckers managed to get a lucky hit but fuck it he needed to de-stress a bit.
Natasha liked to scrap book her missions and Clint thought that was way weirder.
He was down to two goons in a matter of minutes. He toyed with them, letting them get close to landing a punch before he danced away. He'd just about tired of his game and decided to end the fight when one of the ass holes threw a lucky punch that landed squarely on his ear. He barely heard a crunch before the high pitch shrieking screamed into his head.
"FUCK!" he screamed. He quickly punched the guy who broke his hearing aid into a wall and let his momentum carry him into a kick that caused the last goon to slam into the ground. The sound from the broken hearing aid seemed to split inside his head like an ax blow. He'd seen that before. He wanted to avoid the experience himself.
He quickly dug the broken fragments out of his hear canal and the screeching stopped. He took a couple of deep breaths as his head began to throb. The ally sounded all wrong with only one aid in, so he took the other one out of his ear. Besides they were high tech aids and were connected to each other. They were able to help filter out background sounds by seeing which noises were consistent with both ears. This one would be useless soon without the other one.
"Aww, hearing aids." he muttered to himself.
He slipped the aids into his pocket. He turned to leave the alley and to his surprise the two kids from before sat in the alley entrance.
"What are you guys still doing here?" he called out. The kids turned their heads away from him and pointed at something. He assumed they were yelling but he couldn’t read lips unless the teens fucking looked at him. "I can't hear you." he tried calling. They still didn't turn enough. Clint shook his head and jogged up to the kids and positioned himself in front of them.
"... trying to take Mrs. Grabels social security."
"Kid, I'm deaf, fuckers broke my hearing aids. I can't hear you if you're not looking at me. What's going on, why were those guys kicking the shit out of you?"
"They came into the neighborhood a month or so ago. They work for the new landlord. They're jacking up the rent prices man. They tried to force Mrs. Grabels to give them to the money she got from her social security. She's ninety man. She uses that to buy groceries and makes cookies for my kid sister." one of the kids said. Clint appreciated he made sure to look him in the face.
"Is this the first time they got violent?" Clint asked.
"Nah man. They beat up Mr. DuBar last week." the other kid told him.
"Kay, look. Here's my number. Call me if they come around again okay? I can help." Clint scribbled the number to one of his burners on a piece of paper he found in his pockets and handed it to the kids.
"Really man? The cops didn't do anything. The building was sold ya know. Some rich guy bought it and the rest of the buildings on the block. He's been jacking up prices all over." the kid took his number gratefully and started punching it in his phone.
"Yeah, really. I gotta go now but I'll swing by in a week or so if you haven't called me." Clint promised. He could hear Natasha's voice in his head all over again. He'd be getting the hero complex lecture soon. At least that one typically came with relatively few bruises.
He glanced at his watch and swore. It was already after one. He had only a couple of hours to get dinner made, find his spare aids, make something for dinner and get cleaned up. He had planned on just taking the train back to Manhattan but fuck that could take close to an hour. He quickly hailed a cab to get back home.
He wondered when in the last few weeks he'd started thinking of the tower as home.
He had the cab drop him off at a small grocery near the tower and quickly bought the ingredients for oven baked pork chops and roast potatoes.
"Veggies, kid needs veggies, and fruit, fuck." Clint hoped his muttering was quiet but without his aids he had no real way to be sure. He quickly grabbed some brussels sprouts and some peaches. He could roast the sprouts with the potatoes. He remembered Phil making a similar dish after a particularly terrible mission. Natasha and Clint slept at Phil's for a month after that one.
Codependent had been used to describe all of them at least one point in time.
Whatever- his and Natasha's sex life was no longer sending either one of them to medical, so everyone could shut the fuck up.
He was not excited to talk to his therapist about that one when it came up.
He purposely didn't think about trying to explain it to Charlotte. He might be stupid about dating- especially when civilians were concerned but even he knew that was at least third date material. Or third month. He'd have to ask Natasha.
Back at his apartment he quickly put the groceries away before climbing into the shower. He washed his hair, scrubbed the fight off his skin and let the hot water relax his muscles. He jumped out of the shower and began digging in his drawers for his spare pair of hearing aids. They were older ones that clipped around his ears but most people didn't really notice them.
After half an hour of searching he still couldn't find them. Then he remembered he smashed them after the funerals at SHIELD when he heard people talking about him.
"Fuck." he swore. Still he'd have to tell Charlotte about the whole deaf thing sooner or later and Jarvis could always project the conversation if needed. He watched all movies with closed captions anyway so that wouldn't be a problem after dinner. He checked in the guest room to make sure the toys he got Wednesday that week for Lizzy were still there. He figured she'd need something to do.
Planning a date with a teacher who was fostering a two-year-old and having the money to make sure the kid was entertained. That was something he'd never expected growing up in a circus.
"JARVIS, pull up a recipe for pork chops and something I can do with the potatoes and sprouts please." Clint said walking into the kitchen.
"Yes Agent Barton. I found several recipes. I've projected the most popular. Most of them seem to take around two hours so might I suggest waiting to start until three thirty, so the food will be ready and hot when Ms. Matthews and Ms. Elizabette arrive?" The words projected onto the stainless-steel fridge that Clint was facing. He glanced at his watch. He could wait the thirty minutes. It'd give him time to do a little research on whoever owned the apartment and felt the need to hire cliched goons to bully old ladies.
With help from JARVIS Clint started to dig on the internet.
He also started to gain a shit ton of respect for the info specialists at SHIELD. He had no fucking clue how to find half the shit he wanted.
Thank the gods for JARVIS. The AI reminded him when to start cooking, walked him through the recipe and promised to turn the oven off when it was time, so Clint could go and pick up Charlotte and Lizzy.
Clint would never tell Tony, but the billionaire was a life saver when it came to use of his garage. The Lexus was ready with the car seat when Clint made it down to the ground floor. Soon he was pulling into NYC traffic and headed down to Harlem.