Hey, I haven't posted anything for a while so I just wanted everyone to know I'm not done! I think I mentioned that I wanted to write a story about Clint reflecting on his deafness using some of my own feelings and experiences. I guess I should explain that I'm partially deaf in my right ear and a little in my left. I can still hear but it's not always easy and I didn't start really losing my hearing until middle school, (I guess?) That's when I noticed anyway. So anyway, this is all pretty much my experiences and how I thought Clint would react in the same situation. Oh well, I hope y'all like. :)
Clint sat alone outside watching a storm front move in. he could feel every now and then when a clap of thunder sounded, the roof under him would shake but he couldn't hear it. He sat silently, the others were below in the tower but he'd gone up to the roof to sit alone. He wasn't in a bad mood or upset about anything in particular. He just wanted to watch the sky.
They had finished a mission and he was tired and worn out. He'd showered, changed and headed up to the roof. He'd taken out his hearing aids and after hours of wearing them he felt strange and oppressed by the silence around him. Still, his ears hurt if he wore them for too long and he needed a break. He sat still and watched the dark clouds move towards the city in the distance. As a kid he'd been able to count the distance between thunder and lightning but the storm wasn't close enough to truly feel the vibrations and he wasn't able to hear it. He tried a few times before giving up.
He sat still and silent, letting the wind lift his hair. Feeling it but not hearing it. He wondered if it had sound. He felt it against his cheek and almost thought he could hear the absence of sound. He sat still, letting it ripple his shirt and send goose bumps down his arms. It wasn't really cold but the wind had an edge to it that was enjoyable. The humidity was high and the air was sticky. As always when he took his hearing aids out he felt alert and on edge. Somehow he always felt strained when he engulfed himself in silence.
He sighed and felt the air leave his lungs, felt his chest expand and his rib cage move but did not hear the whisper of breath that accompanied it. It had been strange losing his hearing all over again. It had taken him some time to get back into the groove of things. He hated wearing hearing aids again. They made his ears hurt and he hated the white noise that came with them. Tony had seized the chance to make a pair of what he called "the Greatest Hearing Aids on Earth" Clint had said that was a dumb name but Tony had been off. He'd gone on to say if they worked well enough he'd market a line. Condense the name to "Stark-Aids". Clint said if he called them that he would never wear them again. But the truth was that Tony had done a magnificent job and he was incredibly grateful but sometimes he didn't want to wear them. They weren't perfect and they didn't make everything clear. He still had trouble hearing and understanding what he was hearing. That was another problem. But they were the best he had ever had and he was glad of that.
The others had picked up some sign language for him. Tony learned it over night and of course Natasha had been able to communicate from the beginning. She never ceased to amaze him. Bruce had been a quick learner too although Clint hadn't demanded that they learn. If anything he was a little touched by their willingness.
Tony had asked him if he wanted cochlear implants and he'd thought about it. If anyone could come up with a perfect design it was Tony but in the end he opted not to. He wasn't insulted by Tony asking him. It was a valid question but his hearing had come back once, he was holding out for hope that it would again and if it did he didn't want to mess with anything serious. Tony hadn't understood but then he hadn't expected him to. Tony was a guy who believed with enough time tech could fix everything. It wasn't a personal or deep misunderstanding. It was just Tony. He wasn't bothered.
Steve had been a little slower in learning sign language and maybe because of that he'd gone the extra mile. In some ways it was a little too much, everyone being accommodating and going out of their way but he was grateful.
A crash of thunder he could feel in the air and he almost imagined he could hear it. He thought maybe he was hearing a memory. That was a good chance. It was strange to know it should have sound but didn't. Strange to know what that sound was and to wait for it but not hear it. That was another thing. He always felt like he was waiting.
A shadow fell to his left and he studied it. It was Natasha, it had to be. He held still, wanting her to know that he knew she was there. She came up behind him and touched his shoulder gently. She said something and he just gave her a simple frown and shook his head. She nodded and brushed a hand through his hair, leaning her head on his shoulder. He sometimes had trouble reading her lips. She didn't move her moth a lot when she talked. She was too in control. Still she came and sat down next to him. He thought maybe she was indulging in silence. He could respect that. Hearing took work for him now. Sometimes it was just easier not to hear. He sat still, her body against his. He could feel her heart beat in her chest. He wondered if he had his hearing if he might be able to feel it. He could remember what it sounded like. He tried to focus on the sound in his head. Pretend he could really feel it.
Sometimes he felt alone. Alone without the comfort of sound. Like he was missing things and that always frustrated him. People already thought he was a bit dim. But how could you compete with people like Bruce and Tony? When he missed things he felt dumb. Nobody ever commented but he thought that maybe he was hindering them. That if he asked them to repeat a joke it wasn't as funny. Still no one complained and maybe it was all in his head.
He touched Natasha's hair and she looked up at him. He shrugged to say that there was nothing to say and she looked back out across the city. He followed her gaze to the clouds moving in. he didn't like to think of the heroes still out there. They would be caught in the rain. He knew Daredevil never took a night off. Guy was human but liked to forget. Clint wasn't like that. Maybe he lacked the discipline. Maybe it came from being on a team with people who weren't human. He was reminded every day.
He clenched and unclenched his fist, cracking the knuckles silently. Well, not really but to him they were silent. He worked on one, not sure if it had really popped until his finger hurt. Natasha took his fingers and rubbed them, squeezing them affectionately before rising to her feet. She signed that she was going in and he said aloud that he would stay up for a little bit. He wondered how his voice sounded. Wondered if it sounded different or the same. How loud it was. If anything was off she didn't show and with a smile she turned and went.
He looked out, the storm was nearer. The air was getting colder. He shivered a little, feeling the spark of electric life that hit when he was cold or hungry. A shock that ran down his spine and into his feet. So strange to be surrounded by silence. Four walls of it. A room and a ceiling. Oppressive and heavy, just like the air was.
He clapped his hands and sighed when he could only hear the memory of the sound. Sometimes that was worse because he couldn't be sure and he wanted to believe. The memory teased him. He swiped at the air and made an incoherent noise. Just a sound. The odd feeling of feeling his vocal cords work and of feeling his chest push air out and the sound pass his lips but not hearing it. He wondered if it hung in the air in front of him. He could imagine it. He could imagine the sound even if he couldn't hear it.
When the wind picked up and the first few drops of water began to fall he went inside. Tony and Steve were bickering in the kitchen. He was glad he couldn't hear that. He could see them arguing but gratefully couldn't hear them. When he was sure one of them was calling out to him he pretended he hadn't noticed and hurried by before they made a more direct approach at getting him in.
He passed Bruce on the couch who signed asking him if it was raining. He nodded. That was the funny thing. He could talk to them but they couldn't speak to him. He seldom thought about it though. It didn't seem important and was just the way things were. Bruce frowned and glanced out the window, squinting, trying to see the sprinkling rain.
Clint sat down and turned on the tv. Volume on mute and captions on. He watched the forecast and groaned. Rain all week.
He glanced at the kitchen. Weather didn't matter to Cap. The day needed saving and wet weather wasn't going to stop them. He hated working in the rain. He glanced at Bruce who was watching the television too. "Great weather." He muttered.
Bruce rolled his eyes in agreement with a "what can you do?" expression.
Natasha re entered the living room and without asking switched the channel to a program she wanted. Clint didn't mind, he was done with the tv anyway.
Outside the thunder cracked and the rain began to pour in earnest and Clint missed the sound of the rain. But for now, as in most days, it didn't matter. He had Natasha resting against his shoulder and an interesting program on tv and for once he didn't have to listen to the bickering in the kitchen. He smiled a little at the thought and put his arm around her.
Well thanks for reading, I hope people liked it!
So if any of you read my story Learning to Fly I promised that I was gonna write another deaged story and I've started and once I have ten chapters written I'll start posting, it should be soon, I have six already. It's gonna be Natasha this time! And to shamelessly self promote I'm gonna say that it's a bit different, it deals with different aspects of being young and kind of what it means to be a kid and how to be a kid. I hope that wasn't too mysterious!
Well anyway, thanks again for reading!