Chapter Text
The noise had seemed chaotic to your ears, and it took a few taps to the underside of your leg to get you back from the teetering edge of an anxious moment before you could step up to the long pale wood counter with the note already written on your whiteboard. As you had stepped up to grab your order, you had felt the cushioned hit of a man next to you pushing you out of his way as he reached for his cup of coffee while ignoring you standing there waiting.
You had frowned and pursed your lips, the words rising to the forefront of your mind, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to write what you wished to convey on the board in your hands. Instead, you had turned your head and chewed the inside of your left cheek as he turned and shot you a dirty look, his muddy brown eyes narrowed at the corners as he dared you to say something; as he dared you to open your mouth and curse him out.
When you had averted your gaze and had made yourself seem more minor as his scent, his aura as an alpha made you wish to slip between the floorboards and disappear entirely. It was the lingering effects of his scent and the bubbling anger beneath the surface that had you stepping away from him as he angled himself toward you for the sole purpose of you feeling his designation as an alpha. He wished to intimidate you for the rush it would have given him, the surge of power that made him feel better about his day or his life.
It was a notion that you had come across too many times in your life, the feeling of intimidation that rolled off of alphas who were hungry and desperate to feel good about themselves hadn’t been a new experience. Yet, in this crowded café, it had brought you to the point of physical distress.
Intimidating a mute omega was a weak attempt, a shot at someone who couldn’t verbally defend themselves.
You had held your gaze on the floorboards of the café, keeping your gaze averted until you had heard the familiar highs and lows of Clint’s voice and the scattered grunt of the same alpha who had intimidated you, complaining about being covered in his coffee.
You had raised your head and hid your smile behind your hand, watching the alpha scramble out the door as Clint spoke some thinly veiled threat. The message had got across, and the alpha who had intimidated you had only spared you a single glance before he left the café and slammed the door behind him, leaving a tainted scent trail behind him.
“Asshole.” You signed with your fingers and mimed a laugh as Clint approached and rolled his shoulder back before he reached for one coffee then the next.
“Big ego, little dick.” Clint cracked a half-grin, then followed you as you moved toward a table at the back, where you had first deposited your whiteboard, then your worn bag. “You okay?”
You glanced at Clint and tilted your head, then reached for the whiteboard and the black marker you had secured to the front. You had started to pop the black cap off when Clint had rested his hand on yours, stilling you. He had shaken his head and motioned for you to sit, and only when you had fully relaxed in the cheap plush chair had he signed his question, his fingers moving gracefully as he formed the question with ease.
“Fine.” You signed back, using the ASL method instead of writing your response on the well-used whiteboard to your left. “Tired.”
“Have you been sleeping?” The two of you were silent as you communicated back and forth, your focus on the waves of his scent, while he was focused on the way your mouth moved and mimed the words though no sound had been produced. It was a habit you had picked up early on in your life when you attended school, hearing and mouthing the sounds that made up words while lacking the ability to speak verbally.
“I have been trying.” You frowned and pursed your lips, your eyes moving past Clint to the sight of a few young omegas and alphas blatantly staring at you.
The motion had also caught Clint’s eye, but when he had glanced over his shoulder, the little gremlins had scattered and scrambled for the line.
“You don’t have to be anxious-“ Clint’s signing had seemed more eased than yours, and your reply was harsher, more irritated.
“I have every right to be anxious.” Your lips had formed a hard line as you signed your annoyance back at him. “I am about to be living with a bunch of people I don’t know-“
“You know, Natasha.” Clint put forth his argument, and you had dramatically rolled your eyes and hung your head, feigning a sense of anger at the mention of Natasha Romanoff.
“You can’t trust a spy.” It might have appeared that you were serious in your signing if it hadn’t been for the naturally wide smile on your face as you shared with him. “Always listening.”
The joke had been made at your expense, the tiny little quip of humour that was matched with a silent laugh. When the joke had subsided and a moment of peace had come between you too again, you had leaned forward and rested your elbow on the table, then placed your chin in your hand. You had studied Clint as you saw him again, noting his change of hairstyle and the nuance of his scent that seemed to be stretched thin. He looked and seemed as if he was tired, as if it had been too long since he had gone home since he had seen his family.
“I missed you.” You slowly signed with one hand, missing a few letters, but the message was delivered anyway.
“I missed you too.” Clint had returned the sentiment, then extended his hand and rested it on your wrist, holding your attention. “I’m going home when you’re settled.”
“Nat-“ You frowned and pulled your hand away before you reached for the whiteboard and tore the black cap off the marker, and started writing the message on the board, finding the ease of writing your message faster and a little easier than trying to sign.
“Nat doesn’t need to keep an eye on me. I’m not a child.” You huffed and showed him the message, the angry little frowny face at the end making your brother snort and roll his eyes. He had reached for the marker and grabbed it from your hand before he had written his message while the board was facing away from you.
“You are baby.”
You turned the board and read the message before you blanched and fixed your eyes into a semi-serious glare. You were busy wiping the board clean with such urgency; you had missed wiping a few spots of ink.
“I am NOT baby.” You wrote back and underlined the word ‘baby’ a few times, emphasizing the claim. “You are baby.”
“I’m an Avenger.” Clint’s lips twitched, his smirk growing when you huffed again and turned the board toward you, frantically scrubbing the ink away to write another message, another round of back and forth between you all.
“BABY avenger!” You added the exclamation points and set the board down before you shoved it toward him, tapping at the emboldened word with the back of your pen. “BABY.”
Clint had remained silent, not saying or signing anything. He had leaned back against his chair and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched you. You had, in turn, met his silence with the sound of your coffee cup dragging across the table. You had lifted the cup from the table and pressed the rim to your lips, raising an eyebrow as you took a drink. He had remained silent, yet he had grabbed your board from you and angled it away from your view.
You watched him with interest, even trying to peek over the top of the board to see what he could have been writing. However, he had caught onto you and jerked it away before you could see what he was doing. You huffed again, exhaling a burst of air as you shrunk down in your seat and set your mouth into a firm pout, your fingers drumming against the table while he worked.
As you waited, you studied the simple artwork hung on the wall in a dark frame with mild interest, watching the simple swirls come close to touching yet remaining distant enough to see the background through the space between.
When you had heard the tapping of his fingers on the table, you turned your head back to him and the board. He had turned the surface toward you, and you had seen the work he had done. He had drawn the tower in the small corner, and the symbols of the people you assumed would be there, tapping the space beside the symbol of a spider.
“Spy.” You signed for Natasha, then moved to the next. “Stark.”
“Tony is there occasionally,” Clint mumbled.
“Shield and star?” You signed in confusion.
“Captain America and Bucky Barnes-“
“Bucky Barnes.” You tapped the tip of your nose in between your signing. “Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are the super soldiers.”
“Right. Natasha, Steve and Bucky are there most of the time. Wanda Maximoff.” He had drawn your attention to every symbol of every avenger who would be there, along with you and Clint, and the images of the avengers flashed into your mind temporarily as he spoke.
Tony Stark, alpha who was partially responsible for tearing The Avengers apart, had a wife and child.
Natasha Romanoff, alpha female who was Clint’s best friend and your confidante for just over two years since you had met her.
Steve Rogers, alpha nicknamed the ‘man out of time,’ was on his way to retiring, ready to settle down.
Bucky Barnes, alpha and ex-hydra assassin who had recently come back from Wakanda, fixed after all the damage done by the criminal organization.
Wanda Maximoff, alpha who could move things with her mind, among other talents.
“All be there?” You paraphrased your question, your question to make it quick.
“Yes.” Clint matched your signing speed. “They will all be there, and they’re excited to meet you.”
“Cough. Cough.” You smirked and signed the action without completing them. “I’m sick.”
“I promise you will be fine.” Clint offered his comfort, albeit shortly, before he had tapped the side of his phone and drew both of your eyes to the time set on the smart device.
“You should go home.” You scrawled on the board after you’d cleaned it, then you set the cap back on the marker and tucked it into the slot attached to the board.
“I know Laura misses me. I will go home when you’re settled.” Clint had stood, his voice quiet as he spoke while you gathered your things. “You are my sister.”
“You are baby.” You smirked and signed the remark to his endearing statement, tucking your board under your arm as you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulders. “I am not baby. You are baby.”
“Yeah, sure.” Clint rolled his eyes and slung his arm over your shoulders to pull you into his side and walk with you out the door.