Phil sat down in a chair to wait, trying not to so how eager he was to see the first suit.

Clint always looked good in tactical black. Now he was in a suit almost perfectly cut for his body and in his best color. Phil curled his fingers around his knee when he stepped out.

This was going to be torture at dinner. Though he doesn't have to keep his hands to himself anymore. They can be public with their affection now. Knowing himself though Phil will still hold back because it will make the eventual giving in better.

"You'd need to be much more subdued personality wise for a funeral," Phil says, his eyes roaming slowly over Clint's form while Leah carefully makes the final adjustments.