The Avengers Oneshots

Deaf, Russian, and Foreign

So he hopped into the front seat, Clint seated beside him, Nat lounging across the back seats, fiddling (read: ripping out of the car) with her seatbelt.

After they'd been chugging across country for around half an hour, Natasha spoke up. "So, tell us about this here completely legal card Peter?"

"Well, this one night, me and Ned had been up 'till nine o'clock working on my suit, when I realised I had three papers, seven surveys, and a PowerPoint due for school the next day. And all I had done was three pages of the PowerPoint. After Ned had gone home, I realised coffee wasn't gonna get me through the night, so I hacked the police records and printed myself a drivers license. It's a copy of one they confiscated from a man recently convicted in Australia. But it got me some Red Bull."

"Then once I'd bought the stuff I took it home and stuck it in the blender with coffee beans and chugged it. I finished all of my work, but was so tired in the morning that Tony had to drop it off at school for me."

Clint was nodding, every five seconds his head dipped down, and Peter soon realised that he was fast asleep and not waking up any time soon.

Natasha had also realised this and shrugged, "I only have one question: What had the man done to get arrested?"

"He was in unlawful possession of a raccoon."

She smirked. And then screamed.

Peter had been so focused on the conversation that he'd let go of the steering wheel, sending them over a retaining wall and down to the farm land below.

The crash from the landing jolted Clint awake. "HOLY GUACAMOLE KID! Head for the nearest roadway, and hope no police men saw the number plate."

So that's what Peter did, after a good five minutes of ploughing up beetroots and kumra, he finally swerved back onto the tarseal.

No one talked for a little while. And Peter knew that it was his fault, so when he saw the flashing red lighten he took the chance to lighten the mood. "Road work ahead? Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does."

He earnt a snore from Clint, who, the second they were back on the legal roadway, blacked out again.

"Road work?" Asked Nat in a hushed voice, "they might be searching for the car that flew over the roadway."

"Oh, ah, we may need a plan."

Peter gave Clint a harsh jab with his index finger, the archer sprang up, as if he hadn't been snoozing for nearly two hours. "I wasn't asleep!"

"It doesn't matter. We have a situation. We need a plan. Clint, we need a cover. How do we escape the police?"

"Are you against going off-road again?"

Peter and Natasha nodded vigorously.

"Then there's only one option!" He dramatically waved his finger around in the air, "I'm deaf, you're Russian, and you don't speak English."