Tony clenched his fists at his sides as he moved robotically out of the infirmary.

You are going to make a great parent someday. The words danced around his cranium and he almost laughed before sitting down in the middle of the stairwell.

"Someday." He said to the blank walls. "I wonder what day that was supposed to be? The day I was born, or the day he sent me to boarding school?"

It felt as if his heart had been put through a meat grinder. He had tried so hard to put his father behind him, and to section off that part of his past into a little box. Then that man had taken that box and upended it right on his feet. And like marbles, these memories went everywhere, falling into the darkest corners of Tony's mind, hiding in spots that he never knew existed, and lurking on the edges waiting to roll under his feet and send him reeling face first into a pit of hate.

Tony rubbed his eyes ands checked his watch. 4am. Guess I might as well get a head start on today's work.

He made his way toward the lab, but not before a slight detour through the kitchen to steal a bottle of liquid courage.

________________________________________________________________________________

Clint woke up to the nudge of a boot in his gut. He was awake suddenly and sprung up to see an exasperated Steve looming over him. And if that wasn't terrifying enough, Steve's lips were moving, but Clint couldn't hear a damn word.

Shit! Where the hell are my hearing aids? Clint dug through his pockets in a frenzy, but came up empty handed. The annoyingly small devices were missing. They were probably stranded somewhere in the twisty mess of his blanket, or in some other perplexing spot. This wouldn't be the first time he had put his aids in his pocket and found them in his sock. (Don't ask how, he wasn't awake when it happened.)

Knowing that he wouldn't find his hearing aids without tearing apart his makeshift bed, Clint turned to look up at Steve, who was still talking.

Guess we're going to have to lip read. Clint grumbled, then turned his focus to Steve.

It took exactly .009 seconds for Clint to decide that this wasn't going to work, when Steve was angry his accent came back and he talked faster than a runaway freight train.

Tone he is in the hab? No. Tony is in a cab?

Hi, didn't you stake knee? Not even close.

Does he even know I'm partially deaf? Oh god. He's staring at me! Did he ask a question? Clint sighed. Time to start talking.

Clint absolutely detested speaking when he couldn't hear,especially if the person didn't know he couldn't hear himself. He always felt as if he was speaking underwater. His words came out garbled and unidentifiable. There was nothing like the horrible looks on people's faces when he was forced to converse without his aids. Some thought he was "touched" (see:crazy), some asked him what his diagnosis was, but most just gave him a look of utmost pity. Like he was some poor wounded lamb that needed coddling.

Clint hated that look.He didn't need someone to hold his hand. He didn't want their sympathy.

"Steve." He finally ground out. "Hearing Aids."

Steve's face dropped, then a look of realization came over him. This look was then followed by a look of pure fear. Steve didn't know any sign language.

Clint groaned internally (or it could've been externally too, but Clint couldn't hear it so it was internal for him). Finally he mimed a pen on paper with his hands and motioned to a nearby table.

Steve nodded vigorously and quickly scribbled a note, then held it up for Clint to read.

What can I do?

Clint took the paper.

Hearing aids fell out of my pocket. Help me find them.

Steve nodded again then knelt down and started digging through the mess of blankets. As he shifted his leg to be a bit more comfortable, Steve heard a telltale crunch. Moving his leg, Steve found the hearing aids, crushed beyond use. He cursed and held them up for Clint to see.

Clint's face read a mixture of: seriously? and: why do I even try? He snatched up the crushed remains and the pad of paper, scrawling a quick message.

I have more in my room somewhere. Stay with Buck, I'll be back.

Steve nodded and mouthed "sorry."

With a sigh and a dismissive wave Clint made his way out of the infirmary and up the stairs, not hearing the rock and roll thrumming from the lab.

________________________________________________________________________________

Steve sat down just in time to see Bucky's eyes flicker open.

"W-who are you?" Bucky was suddenly awake. "Where am I? Where is Clint?"

Steve tried not to feel hurt, but it was hard for anyone not to feel a twinge of pain when his best friend didn't recognize him.

"It's me, Steve. Steve Rodgers." Steve's voice was steady, though inside he was fighting every urge to just hug Bucky then and there, whether he knew who he was or not.

The scared man's eyes filled with understanding, relief and unsurprisingly, tears.

"Steve......" Bucky opened his arms and Steve all but crushed him in a hug.

There was a few moments of silence, Steve half hunched over Bucky and Bucky strained forward to hold on to him even tighter but neither of them cared. The rest of the world could go up in flames, and they would happily die in the inferno because for the first time in seventy odd years they had their brother back.

"You still haven't told me where we are." Bucky said after a moment, his voice muddled in Steve's shoulder.

"In a minute." Steve murmured back shifting so he was a bit more comfortable. He wanted to enjoy this moment, he didn't feel like letting go anytime soon.

________________________________________________________________________________

A few floors above, Clint was not enjoying himself at all. Apparently past Clint took all of the higher quality hearing aids he used on missions back to his apartment and left him with one pair. The offending objects were bright purple and made of clunky plastic. He only ever wore them if he was sick, wasn't going to interact with anyone or had no choice. Too bad the previous statement is correct. Clint had no choice.

Latching the plastic aids over his ears Clint was met with the blissful sound of the air return.

Followed immediately by a static crack and a ear splitting screech.

Once the ringing and Clint's swearing ceased, he sighed and walked out of the room.

Better than nothing. He thought drearily as the right aid started to crackle again.
________________________________________________________________________________

Bruce checked his phone for the thousandth time as all but stumbled down the hallway. Coulson had to text him soon. Time was running out. But a tiny part of Bruce was hoping that Coulson wouldn't be able to convince Director Fury. Bruce despised that part of himself. That part of him that knew if Coulson managed to convince the Director to extend the deadline that he would have to explain how he knew about the mission before Clint even mentioned it. He would have to explain how he knew about the deadline. He would have to explain how he saved Clint and Bucky so they could die in a foreign country instead.

Bruce was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't see Clint until he all but rammed into him and his phone went skittering down the hall.

And as fate would have it, the second it left Bruce's grasp it lit up and rang like a church bell.

Clint went to go pick it up immediately.

"Sorry Bruce! I didn't really see you coming, it's been a long day. Here's your phone, I hope the screen didn't-"

His speech came to a grinding halt. Clint looked at the screen in disbelief then turned it to Bruce with a hard face and a voice barely concealing anger.

"Explain this. Now."

Bruce pushed his glasses up hastily and read over the message.

I talked to Fury. He'll give them an extra month to complete the mission, but that's it.

"Uh, Clint I think this could use some clarification."

"No shit!" Clint's voice had lost some of its bite, but Bruce knew that didn't mean Clint was any less angry. "How do you know about Fury trading a suicide mission for our freedom?"

"Because I was the one who gave him the idea."