Clint Barton

"Hey, this is Clint. I'm not around. Leave me a message if you want."

For most of Clint's life, his birthday has not been a very big deal to just about anybody. When he was really little, there were cupcakes, and sometimes games and once (he thinks) friends, but that didn't last long, and the group home was not big on birthdays, and in the circus nobody really cared, and since then...well, as you get older, birthdays just stop being as big of a deal.

At least, that's what he always tells himself. And that's why he never tells anybody when his birthday is. Doesn't matter anyway. It's just another year.

Clint was not one to frequent comic shops. In fact, he usually stayed as far away from them as possible--not because, like the other Avengers, he was afraid he might be recognized, but because he was pretty certain he wouldn't be, and that got a little old after a while.

But Coulson had been moping because he couldn't get in to get his Captain America comics for a couple months, and Clint didn't like to see Coulson moping, so he decided to stop by and pick them up for the agent. He'd probably just drop them on his desk when Coulson wasn't around, but at least he knew it would make the man smile.