Summary: 37 is Clint's lucky number. Bruce has to ask why.

Bruce notices things. He notices that when Tony made Clint a quiver that could hold 200 arrows Clint still carries on using 127 arrows. Always that number. So one day Bruce has to ask why. He tracks Clint to the rooftop. It's decorated with graffiti because Clint likes spray cans.

"Hey Clint." he starts.

The archer cuts him off. "Do you have a lucky number?"

"No. Do you?"

"37."

Bruce frowns. That's a strange number. So he sits down, sensing a story.

"Why 37? It's an odd number."

Clint shrugs. "Everything good in my life happens with the number 37."

Bruce nods. "I'm gonna need some elaboration there buddy."

He can see the internal struggle between Clint. He picks up the final spray can, a green one.

"OK. But only if you make a new doodle. On that bit there."

Bruce goes to the green bit of the wall and looks at it. Clint begins to talk, slowly and hesitatingly.

"Phil recruited me when he was 37. My dad was 37 when he died. He was going 37 miles above the speed limit. Me and Nat met on March 7th. That's the 3rd of the 7th. We got together exactly a year later. I proposed on March 7th at 7 minutes past 3."

Bruce nods, slowly starting to understand. "But where does 127 come in?"

Clint replies, "1 add 2 makes 3. Then it's 7 at the end. 37. And there's ten walls here. That's two walls per Avenger and 3 plus 7 makes ten."

"There's six Avengers."

"I don't count. This is my dedication. You don't dedicate something to yourself. Everybody has 37 on one wall and I add 36 and then they add the last. You're the second person to do it after Nat."

Clint gets up and wanders off. Bruce smiles and sprays '127=37'.