Clint had no illusions that the new SHIELD didn’t know where he lived, who he lived with and how many goddamn nails went into constructing his building, that being said, he didn’t want to give the idea that it was ok for them to show up there, so he had the team he’d gone out with drop him off at the tower.
He figured while he was there he could grab a quick shower and nap before making his way home to Bed Stuy, ‘sides, if he did that he ran at least half a chance of not looking like the pile of steamrolled crap he felt like, should Remy happen to be over (which wasn’t likely, they’d only met up a couple times).
He made it as far as the couch before the siren call of the cushions won out and he flopped down and settled in with a sigh.
Since SHIELD fell it seemed like he’d been living one long mission, not that he minded it really, hunting down people who betrayed (who fucking killed) people he considered family…there were worse uses of his time.
He was starting to drift off when he felt the vibration of steps coming towards him (he’d already taken his hearing aids out and crammed them in a less likely to be squished pocket) and cracked an eye open just in time to watch Tony Stark lose his fucking mind. The man froze, jerked, pulled a face, sloshed coffee and starting jabbing a finger at Clint accusingly.
“Balls?” Clint looked down at his very much still clothed crotch and back up at Tony. “I haven’t checked in a bit, but I think I’m still pretty well covered in that department.” He sat up part way and fished in his pocket for his hearing aids, pressing them back into place.
Sucking one of his fingers in his mouth to try and soothe the burn, he scowled more when his little rant clearly went over his head. Popping the finger out of his mouth, he balled his hand into a fist, left his thumb sticking out, and tapped his fist twice against the side of his head.
He didn’t know much ASL, but he had made an effort to at least learn some phrases when he found out Clint was deaf as post.
“Oh you mean besides my third-degree burns and the mini heart attack you just gave me? Oh, nothing, nothing at all.” A brief pause and he could still feel his heart hammering away like a jackrabbit. “I hate you. And I said bells, not balls, you potato. I’m fitting you and Natasha with bells, goddamnit.”