Another installment of the Clint Winchesterseries. I know I should probably be working on the FMA/HP fic right now, but I have writers block for that, so this is my form of venting for the moment.

I do not own any character or plotline from the MCU or Supernatural. Please enjoy.

May 2006

Ringing. It was all that he could hear, and it surrounded him like an impenetrable bubble. His head felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton, and seemed very heavy at the moment. It was had to open his eyes, and he didn't know where he…

Wait.

Slowly, Clint Winchester (although most knew him by his birth name of Barton) opened his eyes. From what he could see – off-white tiled ceiling and similarly colored bare walls – he wasn't out in the field. He had been in Germany, on assignment with Natasha Romanoff as his partner once more, trying to stop some stupid group from recreating the Super Soldier serum that had been used on Captain America back in the 40's. And then… and then…

His brow furrowed as he tried to concentrate, but it was just so darn hard to do that with this ringing in his ears!

He turned his head slightly to his left, and saw that he had an IV tube placed in his arm, and a heart monitor attached to him as well.

"What?" he mumbled to himself, and felt both shock and confusion when he realized that he couldn't hear himself speak.

'Sorry, Clint.' Natasha wrote on the small hand-held whiteboard, her normally expressionless face looking somewhat apologetic. 'They had a bomb.' She erased the black marker and wrote something else. 'I was able to get far enough away but you weren't as lucky.'

Cling gripped the starched white sheets that he laid on, gritting his teeth together.

"So," he said, unnerved by how he couldn't hear himself. "I'm gonna be deaf forever, then."

She nodded.

'The doctors said 80% in both ears.' She wrote down.

He ran a hand through his hair. Eighty percent. That meant that he wasn't completely deaf, at least. Silver lining, he supposed.

Natasha's head turned towards the door of the S.H.I.E.L.D. med bay, as if someone had called for her. They probably had, Clint thought to himself ruefully.

What luck he had, that he'd been damaged not by a Wendigo, or a Siren, or some other monster, but by pure human stupidity. He really was the worst hunter ever, then.

Natasha waved at him as she quickly left, and he raised his hand, half-heartedly returning the sentiment.

This sucked balls.

June 2006

"Hey, Dean," Laura said when the younger man picked up his phone. "Are you able to make a trip out to the farmhouse, you and Sam? Clint, he really needs to see you."

"Uh," came the reply, thickly coated with static. "It might take a couple of days. But yeah, we'll be there."

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks," she said. "Let me know when you get here."

"Will do."

She ended the call and turned to her husband, who was currently absorbed in a book, and she smiled. It had been a month since the accident, and while Clint's hearing had not returned – rendering him almost completely deaf – but with the help of hearing aids, he had almost normal hearing once more, and he had even agreed to learn sign language with Laura, much to her pleasure (she loved wining arguments).

"Your brothers will be coming up in a few days," she informed him, and he grunted a bit in acknowledgement. She frowned and crossed her arms. "Clint, Dean and Sam would have found out sooner or later, so it was better to call them now." She said, and he looked up at her, sighing.

"I know," he said. "But I feel like if I ignore it, it isn't real."

Laura's face softened, and she leaned over to hug her husband.

"It's gonna be okay," she murmured in his ear, and he believed her.

Natasha was one of the incredibly few people who knew of the location of Clint and Laura's farmhouse. Cooper, who was almost a year old, recognized her as she walked in unannounced, and he gurgled happily in greeting.

Clint never even bothered to do any supernatural tests on his partner, mainly because there were devils traps on the underside of the floorboards, salt under the door and window frames, and a silver doorknob on the front door, not to mention the iron latch on the gate. The house was pretty much demon proof.

(Naturally, it was not angle proof, but that is a tale for another time.)

"Heya, Nat," Clint greeted her from the couch, not even bothering to look up.

She allowed herself a small smile at the sight of him.

"Clint," she said. "The hearing aids are helping, then?"

He looked at her and nodded, with a smile that highlighted the small laugh lines around his eyes.

"Yeah," he said. "They're pretty much perfect, if not a little bit better. Fury really had them go all out with these, didn't he?"

She nodded, and leaned down to pick up her godson, who squealed with delight.

There came a sudden knock on the door, which Natasha looked at curiously before shifting her gaze to Clint, who looked a little uneasy.

They never really got visitors, and never gave their address out to anyone, so the only people who could possibly be here were either very, very lost road trippers, Nick Fury (unlikely), or his brothers…

"I'll get it," Clint announced as Nat made her way towards the door. She looked at him for a moment before shrugging and settling herself on the couch with Cooper.

He was a little surprised when it was his brothers who stood on his doorstep – vaguely, he remembered that Laura had called them a few days ago – and then he was worried, because Dean had been on the news for a murder spree and was supposedly dead (he had, of course, called to make sure that his younger brother was still kicking, being the mature person that he was, and learned that they'd dealt with a case of shape shifters). Naturally, this could pose a problem, what with Natasha being just a few feet away, and all to eager to shoot people.

Against his better judgment, Clint had them come inside.

Word Count: 1,019 without A/N