That evening, the six residents of the "kids' level" were all congregated around their nearly empty plates at the living room's coffee table when Romanoff said, "There's a couple of things Clint and I would like to talk to you about, assuming that Coulson is telling or has already told May and Ward these things. One:"
Natasha paused, looking nervously to Clint, but then Jemma Simmons supplied in that soft tone of hers, "You're married to one another, aren't you?"
"Yeah," Clint and Natasha said at the same time.
Okay. No problem. God bless Fitz. And then he wrote, What's the second thing?
"That," Natasha said. "Is where Clint comes in."
And she looked to him, effectively giving him the floor.
He took a deep breath, nervous because this subject wasn't really one he generally chose to breach, and turned his attention to Fitz, saying, "That's actually something I wanted to talk to you about. You're a pretty smart kid, right?"
"Yes," Simmons answered quickly.
"Are you any good at picking up languages?"
Fitz nodded, shrugging at the same time, which Clint took to mean "I guess."
"Do you… know sign language?"
Fitz bit his lip, thinking for a second before he shook his head slowly. He paused, eyebrows knit together as he thought for a second before holding up his hand in the form of a fist, then crossed his thumb over his open palm, before making a talon-like shape with his hand.
"A, b, and c," Clint nodded approvingly before showing Fitz four more signs. "F-i-t-z."
Fitz smiled, then wrote a word on his notebook, holding it up for Clint to see. Why?
"Would you like to be able to get rid of that notebook, or at least not use it as much? It seems like learning to sign might be easier and quicker after awhile. Tasha and I already know American sign language, and I happen to know Coulson knows a little too."
Fitz pointed to the word on his paper. Why?
Feeling quite a bit more self-conscious than he let on, Clint tapped his own ear and Fitz's eyes widened as he scrawled out another word and cupped his hands around it so that only Clint could see what it was. Deaf?
"Can I…?" Clint gestured towards the notebook and Fitz handed paper and pen over willingly.
I've got a cochlear now. Not many people that I worked with know I have hearing problems – only Nat, Coulson, Hill – and I'd like to keep it that way.
Fitz took the notebook back, scanned the words, nodded his understanding at Clint, and then quickly wrote down something else before handing the paper back to Clint with a smile.
You learned to sign so you could communicate with the strange, reclusive maintenance man among the circus people, then, if anyone asks me about it.
Clint's mouth twitched as he admitted, "I might actually like you, kid."
Fitz held up his pointer finger for Clint to wait a moment then ripped out of his notebook the page that held their on-paper conversation. He gestured for Clint to follow him and then rolled himself into what Clint realized was his bedroom with the archer trailing behind. Clint actually grinned when Fitz went over to a shredder in the corner of the room and fed the paper through.
The engineer smiled as he turned back to Clint. Delete key. Don't have that with spoken words.
"See, now I really like you – maybe even enough to teach you archery, too, if you want. I bet that'd work even with your chair." Not that he had any idea why he wanted to help this kid, but he did either way.
Fitz thought this through for a second before his gaze shot back to the living room with a sudden mischievous glint to them and he nodded vigorously.
"Okay, what about the sign language, then?"
Fitz nodded to that too as they made their way out of his bedroom.
"Alright – but only if you'll tell me why you want to learn the archery; that look you got in your eye makes me nervous."
Fitz made a face, complaining, That's going to be a lot of writing.
"Condense it then."
To give Coulson a headache.
Clint snorted as they made it back to the living room doorway, asking, "You guys really are just four more of his kids, huh?"
Fitz's smile just widened.
"What do you want, Melinda?" Phil asked, glancing at her through his bedroom mirror when she came in while he was halfway through undressing for the night. Something had been on her mind since the meeting earlier about Rogers and Barnes, and here's to hoping she was ready to tell him what that was.
Shutting his bedroom door behind herself, she asked, "Am I being too cautious to say that I like the idea of keeping Barnes on this level like we are Ward, that way we can keep an eye on him too? Just in case… with his HYDRA past?"
"The captain is going to want to stay with his friend, I'd wager," Phil pointed out.
"We've got room for them both on this level. That would make six of us on level three – if you count the fact that Koenig sleeps in a room on this level whenever he's not off working – and you said that each level had seven bedrooms."
"Yeah, that's true," Phil agreed reluctantly.
"Oh, come on," Melinda said, stepping closer to him. "I thought – no, I just knew – you'd be jumping at the idea of living in the same space as Captain America."
"And I am… on the inside," Phil nodded. "At least a little. But… do you realize that bringing Ward and then even more people to level three means that it was just you and I here alone for only one night?"
"And as I recall, we made very good use of that time," she smirked. "Or have you forgotten already? I would be happy to remind you, if you have."
"I wouldn't mind a reminder…"
"Can Barnes stay on this level?" she bribed.
He practically whined, "No fair!"
"All is fair in love and war, Phil – and you and I are pretty good at both. So, what do you say? Another couple of roommates?"
"Fine," Phil sighed.
"Good," she replied, giving him a kiss.
