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Bless, the flirty happily married tailor is a little old lady. That makes so much sense. She even calls him Phillip, which nobody does except in very Official manners. Oh no. Oh gosh. Oh this is cute.

Right up until Phil just casually chucks him under the bus. Normally this is not a thing that Clint would mind! Lots of suits come off racks! There is nothing to be ashamed of! But in front of a bespoke-making little old lady tailor? Leah seems momentarily aghast before then getting excited. The glint in her eye kind of excited.

"Uh," Clint fumbles for a moment, "this is just a--" Gift? God. That sounds really stupid and too intimate. Who does that? Gifts a wholeass suit. Besides Phil, apparently. He closes his mouth, effectively ending that sentence, before trying again, even as he awkwardly goes where Leah eagerly beckons. "It's for a special occasion."

Is it? That seems innocuous enough.

"What kind of occasion?" she asks, unfurling some measuring tape with practiced ease. "Funeral, wedding, red carpet? Different cuts and different colors for different tones."

Uh. Shit. "What do you normally do for Phillip?" Because he has to try it out.

She flaps a hand at him. "He has suits for everything; don't change the subject."

"I'll defer to your judgement, ma'am. And his. He has a much better idea of how this all works than I do." Technically. SHIELD uses a lot of scans and biometrics and shit more often than not these days, but they still have practical people who take measurements and pick fabrics and add stylized details.

While Clint and Leah get to know each other Phil starts looking through the bolts of fabric for something that will work well on Clint. He doesn't want plain old black, though it is a classic, he wants something else.

"It's a black tie dinner," Phil explains since Clint is clearly out of his element. "And will possibly be used for red carpets and other expensive events in the future but nothing formal."

"Black tie, good, good." She motions Clint to stand on a small raised platform with three mirrors almost wrapped around it. "Strand straight, young man, and put your arms out please."

She gives Clint bicep a playful pinch. "You must strain the sleeves of your off the rack jacket. How is it comfortable for you?"

"He wears it very rarely," Phil answers for Clint as he picks out an impossibly dark grey. It looks black but it's not. He puts it on the counter for Leah to look at later. "He'll wear this one very rarely but it's important he have one."

"He should have more. Once I get your measurements, I can make you any suit for any occasion." Leah moves around Clint with her tape taking measurements.

Phil steps in to answer some questions which is a blessing, and this is for him at the end of the day. But also he keeps going, and Clint tilts his head to look at his handler-agent-partner-something via the mirror. Because there feels like a line being trod upon here between helpful interjection and control.

Clint doesn't have any legitimate objections, but he's wondering how much he should just stand there like a T-posing doll and be quiet.

"I don't do quite so much flexing when I need to have a suit on," he says, eventually. Black tie is a good cover. Red carpet is a fun stretch. Does Leah think either one of them is a red carpet type? What an adorable and intimidating kind of lie.

"And I can't possibly believe you bought trousers off some Men's Warehouse shelf without splitting them." Clint's about to make some faux-offended remark asking if she's calling him fat when his ass gets the same kind of pinch his arm did. To his credit, forewarned is forearmed, so he does not make an undignified noise. Not much of one, anyway. "We need to show you off and let you breathe. Where did you even find this one, Phillip?"

Phil catches his eye and smiles at him. He's doing fine. He has no expectations for Clint to really understand suits because they're an interest of Phil's. He just has to stand there and be his usual charming self.

"We met at work," Phil says as he walks back towards the pair. "He happens to be my best. And my favorite but don't tell him that."

Leah has no connections to SHIELD outside of making suits for Phil. He can talk openly about the less than professional aspect of their relationship. Something they still haven't put a label on and that Phil is not pushing for. They are themselves.

"I'd like him to have something nice to wear." He shrugs and settles into a seat to watch. "I picked a fabric I like for him but he might have some opinions of his own."

Well. That leaves them in an interesting spot. Because they haven't suggested 'because we're going on a romantic dinner date and need to look good', but this is still much more casual and open than he's ever heard Phil about them to other people. It could imply something more or could just imply, hm, boss and underling turned good friendship? She hasn't exclaimed anything along the lines of 'oh is this the handsome young gentleman you're dating', so, that hasn't come up.

Feel it out as he goes, then.

"It is generally of preference that the person I'm tailoring for likes what they've got on," Leah intones.

Clint, for his part, mostly shrugs. "Sometimes I actually like wearing clothes. But only sometimes."

She pauses and regards him with a wry look, fingertips alight at her chest. "Bless, you're a difficult one, aren't you?"

"Not the first or the last to say so, ma'am."

She jots numbers down in a little notebook, tutting. "You'll call me Leah or you'll call an ambulance, young man."

"Understood, ma'am."

She adjusts her spectacles and levels a look at Phil. "I think I can see why he's your favorite."

Clint grins in the mirror. Nothing like being a little shit to someone who can appreciate it. He will probably be less of a shit once the pins come out and he has to stay still lest he get a surprise acupuncture treatment, but that's later. "Maybe we should go for a bright purple. Do suits come with racing stripes?"

"Nevermind, I can't see it anymore."

"It's certainly not his fashion sense," Phil says in his most boring tax accountant voice. It's not that Clint doesn't have a good eye it's simply that it doesn't matter to him. Phil understands that to some level but he also doesn't because he enjoys looking good.

"We could keep to the grey and a rich purple for the shirt or vest," Phil suggests, watching Clint's expression in the mirror to see what he thinks of Phil's ideas. "And something with a pinstripe to make him happy."

"A subtle pinstripe," Leah says firmly, "I don't care how good his ass is, Phillip, I'm not giving him 'racing stripes'."

She sounds so insulted that Phil has to hide his smile for a moment. Clint has that effect on people but he trusts Clint won't cross a line with his tailor.

"A purple vest is a bold choice. It would frame his shoulders nicely." Leah begins circling Clint again. "What do you think? Any opinions on vests?"

He won't push it; she just seems like a fun sort given she feels free to pinch asses. C'mon. Phil only looks like he's a boring guy. He would never pick someone with no sense of humor to be in charge of suits.

Clint supposes, anyway. He doesn't really know a lot of things. He knows he looks good, in general. He knows he looks good in certain pieces of clothing. He knows he likes comfort and has a collection of telling flannel at home, plain colored tees, some okay but nothing special jackets, well worn jeans, jeans that hug him in all the right places for nights out on the town--and sure, a suit he thinks he looks decent in.

He never wore things that made him stick out growing up. And on the job, he's for the most part not meant to be seen, dark, tactical. Doesn't have any habit of going to galas. Practical and comfy has always been the thing.

Anyway. He has no idea how serious any of this is being taken, and he's trying not to pout in the mirror. "I'm down for whatever you want to try so long as I don't look like a groomsman or like I'm going to prom." He can see the way this energetic old lady heaves upward like she's about to let out the longest sigh of frustration. "Which, obviously, you would never let happen." To placate. "Is a vest going to restrict my range of motion?"

The sigh has at least been set aside if not altogether aborted, and her eyes are frankly huge behind those distorting lenses. "We would, of course, make comfort a priority along with looks. It isn't a corset, and while that might be a nice choice for some fine young men, you don't seem to have the structure for it."

Clint blinks and looks down at himself. There's a structure? For wearing corsets? Is that a thing that even would have ever crossed his mind?

"How much motion are you planning on doing at this black tie?"

"Well," he says smoothly, recovering, "there's always dancing." Part of him thinks a vest is a little much. But also, he thinks a tie is a little much. But two things make him realize he should be open to the possibility: Phil's suggestion of a black tie event, and the fact that the more layers he has on, the more Phil has to put in the fun work of undressing him.

And maybe they don't have to potentially ruin so many of Phil's ties.

"I guess," with less confidence but actually trying this time, "if we're going with a dark color, a little color to pop so it doesn't look same-y makes sense. If we do that, though, pinstripes might make it look really busy?" That is a reasonable and vaguely fashion-conscious thing to say, right?

Clint is trying for him and that Phil appreciates. He could fight this tooth and nail. Clint is very good at making things difficult when he wants to. This could be a miserable experience for all involved but he's trying. Something very soft and warm blooms in Phil's chest. It takes all his self control not to rub at his chest and give away what he's feeling.

"Don't let him fool you, he's a very good dancer," Phil teases with some of that gentle affection slipping out. If he's not careful Leah's going to fully catch on to the nature of their relationship and start asking questions.

And by dancing Phil meant fighting but Leah thinks he's some sort of very important businessman who studies risks and market trends. It's a boring job from everything Phil's read about it.

"I can work with that," Leah says with a nod of approval. "A few more measurements and then you can have a look at fabrics. I assume you'll want something light and easy to move in. Phillip tends to prefer heavier fabrics."

Usually because they hid his weapons and made him look very boring and average.

"I've let you dress me in silks before," he says to give Clint something to latch onto besides how strange this experience must be for him.

It's not a bad experience! So far! He doesn't hate this, and he wants to be here for Phil to make this fun and sexy. It's just a lot less picking some fun outfits and putting on a fashion show in and out of a dressing room like an 80's movie.

And it isn't like he doesn't want any say in his looks. He wants to look at it and agree that he likes what he sees. He just also wants Phil to have a good amount of say and control in this. Lean into the idea that it might be terribly attractive to be wearing something that Phil picked out personally.

"I at least haven't had any complaints from my dance partners." By which Clint actually means dancing. And maybe if Phil would loosen up enough to spend some time at a club, he might find that dancing is a great prelude to other similar activities. "Yeah, I don't want to feel bogged down by my clothes. Light and breathable. I'm not going to the Arctic."

Silk just makes him think of silk boxers. Or silk ties. Remarkably sturdy material.

"I'm assuming you've got some very nice fancy suits, too? Besides your work clothes? I get he's a walking advertisement, Leah, but you have got to tell this man to take a vacation. With casual tops. Jeans. Cargo pants. Literally anything else."

Clubs were terrible in Phil's opinion. The music is too loud and terrible to begin with. What people call dancing is more like public sex. He simply doesn't see the same appeal that Clint does. But since Clint's humoring him like this maybe h can bend a little and spend a night at one.

If Clint asks.

"Cargo pants." Leah smacks Clint on the arm. "Bite your tongue. The man does not get to wear cargo pants. That would be a crime on his body."

Leah does give Phil a once over. "The right pair of jeans, though, you might be on to something."

Phil rolls his eyes. "Yes, I have fancier suits. Remember when I was in California for that job? They were required."

His fanciest suits were exclusively for events where Stark was involved. Now that Stark was aware of his identity he couldn't get away with looking like an unassuming tax accountant. Besides, Pepper liked to see him in nice suits. She always complimented him.

"Where would you take Phillip on vacation? I can't see him tanning on a beach." Leah asks, prompting a bit more from Clint as she got the last of her measurements.

"I have never seen this man in anything other than a suit." He's seen him outside of suits. Seen him put on tactical vests overtop his suit. Robes, Clint thinks, do not count as clothes and are inapplicable to the situation. "Imagine how wild he would get with a few drinks in him. He might loosen his tie. Unbutton a single top button. Really get wild and crazy."

Leah does not argue any of these points, which Clint is going to count as a win.

"Hey, who says I would take him on vacation anyway? And some sun wouldn't kill him. He doesn't have to tan; I'm not sure he's capable of it. Put on some sunscreen and go drink some maitais in a bright Hawaiian shirt at a tiki bar. Go swim with dolphins. Or," with a look at his partner, "are you more of a mountain guy, get bundled up and go skiing?"

"Where can I go to read quietly for a few days?"

"Phillip, you are no fun." Leah walks over and swats his knee with her little notebook. "You're young and need to do more than work. I'm going to pick some fabrics. You two behave yourselves."

She totters off into the store and Phil gets up to approach Clint. He gently touches the edge of his wrist, "How are you feeling?"

Is he still enjoy this? Because Phil is. He's excited to see what Leah picks for Clint and what will look good on him. Even in his imagination the tailored suit and vest is perfect to accent Clint's broad shoulders and trim waist.

"You need more than a staycation," Clint muses, even if Leah has already wandered off. "Go to a mountain lodge and curl up by the fire in a cozy sweater and drink hot chocolate and read, but at least it'd be away from here."

There's enough action in both of their lives as it is. And a lot of travel, too. Vacation can't possibly hurt, though.

"I'm good. I'm here to be your dress up doll, and you're gonna help me look all fancy and fitted."

"You're here." Phil keeps his voice soft but Clint's presence is enough to encourage him to stay in New York. There's also work which never seems to let up. There's always some crisis that requires his attention. Staying in New York is the better option.

Since Leah is not paying attention he smooths his hands down Clint's shoulders. "You have no idea how attractive the idea of a vest on you is to me. If you want me wrapped around your finger this might be the way to do it."

He can admit that much at this stage in their relationship. He trusts Clint won't take the wrong sort of advantage.

"And purple is a good color on you. With the right suit it'll be very good on you."

"I don't have to be here."

They could quite literally go anywhere they want. If Phil wanted it.

It isn't quite public, but it's a lot closer and bolder than Phil ever gets out of them being perfectly alone. Clint's sure hands are less sure now, not knowing quite what to do with them. A light touch at Phil's elbow. "Joke's on you; I'm pretty sure you're already wrapped around my finger." In a sense. "If you have a thing for vests, how come you don't wear one more?"

"Do you like cabins in the woods?"

Maybe it's time things changed a little. They're away from prying eyes at SHIELD where the rumor mill is endless and very creative. He wants to spare Clint any rumors that said he only made it this far because he's sleeping with his handler. His own reputation he's not worried about.

In the tailor's shop he can be a little more bold and a little more openly affectionate. If Clint takes it well. He can see there's a little confusion, a little uncertainty. He takes his hands back.

"My body shape doesn't look good in a vest. I'm boxier than you. It only makes me look broader instead of slimmer." He explains.

"You want me to chop some firewood and show off my arms while you stand at a window pretending like I don't see you watching me?" He's pretty sure specific destination doesn't matter overmuch. So long as it's cozy for Phil. "And a phone rule. Emergencies only. Actual emergencies, like world ending emergencies."

Which is all what he says to keep himself from furrowing his brow at how the brief touch is just as quickly gone. Clint shoves his own hands in his pockets, leaning back casually on his heels.

"I don't know anything about that. What vests do for shapes. Just seems like extra fabric." He'll wear it, though. He trusts the opinions of people who are much more knowledgeable on this shit than him. "She mentioned corsets..."

"If you're in jeans and I can look at your ass, yes." That's fairly bold and open for them too. They're usually more subtle about their flirtations in public. Phil's rarely so bold about his attraction.

And a vacation together would be a big step forward. It would be harder to deny they are lovers in a relationship and actually dating. It's an interesting step forward that Phil is willing to take if Clint is.

"Yes, some men wear corsets." Phil says with a little nod. "Sometimes it's to look slimmer than they are. Sometimes it's for sex. Sometimes they just like to feel pretty."

He tilts his head at Clint. "Why? Do you want to wear one?"

Clint is realizing that they're going to have to have a conversation, probably several ongoing conversations, and god, as usual, he's not going to want to have any of them while Phil needs to be sure everything is clear.

Hm. Like the idea of a romantic dinner and the implication of date being put in a box. Boxes for everything.

"I know guys wear corsets, Phillip." Will he keep using the whole name? Probably as long as they're here, yeah. "It just had never occurred to me that someone would even bring it up to me. Even if I apparently don't have the right shape for it."

"You don't need one." Phil is resigned to being called Phillip for awhile. Clint will draw that out until he gets bored of it. It doesn't bother him. Strangely it makes him think of getting in trouble as a child. "You're already slim."

He looks over Clint's shoulder as Leah returns with a few bolts of fabric, mostly dark greys and rich purples. He tilts his head so that Clint will turn around though it's likely he's seen her in the mirrors already.

"Come here," she orders as she sets the fabrics down. "Test the weight of these in your fingers and see what you'd like to wear."

Phil steps back and gestures for Clint to go. "I'll pick from what you'd like to wear."

Which seems to indicate that Phil as no particular fantasies or desires about Clint in a corset, so, he won't be asking about that. Not that he'd do so now anyway, not with the woman of the hour wrangling all kinds of fabrics with ease instead of looking bogged down by any of it.

"Here it comes, my hardest assignment," he jokes before stepping over to the table of Things To Potentially Put On His Body (For Fun And Profit).

Leah clicks her tongue. "Don't worry, I've seen plenty of people come in that don't know their bolas from their bowties. I'll make you look like a star."

"Yeah," he says a little absently, running fingers along a bolt of steely grey, "I was afraid of that. Not really built for a spotlight."

Built for Phil's spotlight, though. The intensity of his attention. Like nothing else in the world matters. He feels it all out, a few a little stiff for his liking, some light and fluid, touches cute paisley patterning and subtle pinstripe and black and dark grey stormy grey highlight purple dark and brooding purple. He doesn't really know what he's looking for, style-wise, but as far as weights go he indicates a few bolts that feel like he'll be able to move in them without too much restriction should the need call for it.

It might be not the greatest sign that he wants something nice and fancy like this to be combat ready.

"Jacket and pants and a vest are only part of an outfit, though. Gotta think about shirt and tie to go with. Maybe simple matching colors, let the vest stand out? Or match the tie to the vest?"

Leah hums. "And pocket square."

"...Is a pocket square necessary? It's just like...a handkerchief, right?"

"Phillip, dear, he keeps showing so much potential and then his mouth keeps going and ruins the illusion."

He watches Clint closely as he examines the fabrics. Clint will pick certain things, ones he can fight in if it comes down to it. And yes, that's a possibility with their job even on something simple like a steak dinner. Bad guys don't keep to a schedule.

But he knows Clint well at this point. He knows that there might be something he really likes but it's too fancy or too expensive looking and he won't let himself have it. Even though he wants it. Clint focuses on need and the practical. This suit isn't about practical. Phil plans to give Clint what he wants and needs. It seems to be his default around the other man more and more.

"All he needs is the potential," Phil says in Clint's defense. "He can learn the rest."

If Clint ever decides it's worth his time. He might not but he has a way of surprising people who underestimate him.

"But you're right. The shirt and tie should be muted so the vest stands out. Usually, the shirt will match the jacket to fade into the background. The tie can still stand out if you want," Phil explains with patience, like he's running through mission details and not the finer points of men's fashion.

As long as Clint's comfortable with the whole thing Phil's fine with it. Leah probably can't tell but Phil is excited for this. Clint, if he's paying enough attention, will pick up on the subtle signs of it. They know each other that well by now. More importantly, Phil doesn't mind if Clint knows.

This is, on a practical level, for Clint. But he knows that this is really for Phil, who expressed a desire and an excitement (even a sexual one) to get Clint all gussied up in very nice fabrics that he'd chosen for the archer and then play the game of trying very hard to keep his hands to himself until a more appropriate time.

All Clint really knows is he likes himself a cozy flannel, and beyond that, well, then things ought to be practical with a few standout sexy pieces. Nothing quite like leaning on a bar with a pair of jeans that hug every curve and a shirt that rides up just so when he stretches his arms, for instance. This? Is a whole new level. So yes, he's thinking practicality, but it's nice to know that Phil, who has more working knowledge of this area, who this is all really for, is going to be able to narrow things down and make other suggestions to make Clint look his best and set practicality aside as only a secondary concern. Or, at the very least, take it all into consideration and somehow whip up something that's exactly what Clint never realized he needed. Which seems a much better outcome.

Phil, who is definitely feeling that excitement. It's subtle, but Clint smiles in spite of himself, because he sees that light in Phil's eyes, catches a tone in his voice.

"Okay," he says with a little nod. "So it's more building an outfit around the piece rather than it being an accent piece."

"Mm, it can be just like that," Leah agrees, and reaches over to give his arm another pinch. "We'll need something that gives you room but also lets you show off, but attention will be drawn more toward center mass."

"Just what I need, a bright target."

"You're not a deer, dear."

"I'll get you an all black suit next time," Phil says with some amusement. Now that Leah has Clint's measurements he can get Clint a suit anytime he feels like it. Which, honestly, won't be often.

His job requires a suit but Clint's doesn't. They don't go out to fancy places often enough to make multiple suits necessary. The idea, though, that he could get Clint in any suit of his fancy is nice.

God, he really hopes this isn't a sugardaddy thing. Phil will feel like an idiot if that turns out to be a thing of his.

Leah scoffs. "Even in all black he wouldn't disappear. Not with how good I'm going to make him look."

Phil privately agrees. Leah's suits are Phil's favorites for a reason. Clint's going to never fade into the background with one of them on.

"You can get me as many suits as you want so long as it's on your card." Clint points at Phil. "This is going on his card, by the way." He has no idea how much this will run, and he isn't exactly poor (anymore), but he imagines the amount would still make him wince.

"I know he's good for it, every time. Every cent is worth it, I promise."

"He has to come to you for good reason. His suits are sure always snazzy." Clint motions for his partner in fashion to come on over. "Pretend I'm stupid, which shouldn't be too hard, and tell me what you think." He indicates a couple bits of fabric across the table. None of them are the subtle pinstripe promised for the whole racing stripe joke, thank god. "These feel like they won't weigh me down. I'm not worried about the feel of the vest since it's just a vest, worst comes to I'll just unbutton it."

"Just a vest," Leah tuts just loud enough to be heard.

"Look, given she's as good as she says, is there any chance I can't rock any combination of any of this put together? Hard to narrow things down at that point."

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