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"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."

"You're not stupid," Phil says automatically.

He also means it. Clint is not stupid. He's intelligence simply isn't towards fashion. No one can do math in their head like Clint can. One of these days he's going to convince Clint of that.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Clint he considers the fabrics and picks out the one he likes the best. It's a lighter grey but it will still look good on Clint. Everything looks good on Clint, though, even if the archer doesn't believe him when he says it.

"This one for the suit itself," Phil says, setting it aside. Leah makes a little sound of approval too. He has had a great deal of practice with this. "And I think something darker to contrast..."

He picks up a bolt of purple that's so dark it's almost black. People won't be able to tell unless they're up close.

"Oh, Phillip, stop taking it easy on the man. Make it pop!" Leah rolls her eyes and picks a brighter, bolder purple from the bunch. "Here. Give him some color."

Phil looks towards Clint to let him choose.

Phil usually only lets Clint be self-deprecating when he's mad about something, but still, it will not kill anyone to let him joke and get away with it. "We're just pretending I'm stupid," he murmurs.

He's a little surprised at the choice given Phil had seemed interested in something darker. Could he, maybe, get away with two suits? To mix things up. Obviously. "Hey, if we're gonna go color, let's go color." Bold it is. He reaches for said purple and lays it by Phil's choice of suit. "You sure it's not gonna look too groomsman-y? Or like I'm a valet? Maybe go with a dark shirt and tie to make it stand out more, unless that's gonna be, I don't know, too busy."

"How black tie are we talking? Bow ties only, or do we have more wiggle room?"

"Uh." God, it's so much easier when he's getting his kit fitted for work; he doesn't have to do any of this finicky shit. "Wiggle room, definitely."

"Then we can work wonders. Black shirt, black tie, let the vest speak for itself as he centerpiece with the suit to frame it?" She's gone back to her notebook, scribbling and sketching. "Or we could really work the purple, match the shirt, dark tie to break it up, hm, or keep the whole outfit bright and cheery, white shirt classic, purple tie..."

He's pretty sure she's talking to herself at this point, actually. "And a handkerchief." Just to be annoying.

She flaps a hand at him without looking up. "I'll let my violence in the workplace policy go if Phillip decides to smack you."

"You're lucky he's not asking for a flannel suit." Phil can tell Leah's in the creative stages and she'll need time now. A suit isn't made in a couple of hours even from someone who's sewn and tailored their entire life like Leah.

"I'd throw him out." She considers Clint for a moment. "Though he could do well in a kilt."

"Let's go with two options," he says glancing only once at Clint to make sure that works for him. "Something that's bold and one that's more subdued. How long do you think it'll take before he can come back for the final fitting?"

Leah looks up from her sketching and stares at them for a moment. Phil knows she's going through her calendar and current workload in her head. "For you, Phillip? I'll make it in a week."

"Don't strain yourself."

She waves a hand. "I can tell this is important. A week."

Phil nods. "If you've got any last minute requests, Clint, I'd make them now. She'll be too busy for us in a few minutes."

Which was fine. They'd spent enough time here and two suits was originally more than they planned. It's been a learning experience, he's certain.

"I have no idea if I have nice calves, but let's leave the tartan aside for another time." Or never. Maybe never! Hm.

He glances at Phil and shrugs. Ask for some big inside pockets? Enough room for a shoulder holster and a pistol? Room for fun unspecified gadgets?

Focus. This is for nice events wherein there is no expectation of anything going wrong. Not for a mission.

"We'll see you in a week, then."

Phil bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from commenting on Clint's calves. They're nice. Very strong. Feel great when they're wrapped around his waist and trying to pull him closer. He's not going to mention anything about Clint's calves but he will think about them.

"Thank you so much, Leah. You're incredible as always." Phil leans forward and kisses her cheek. "Tell Calvin I say hello."

"Oh, Phillip, stop making him jealous." Leah swats Phil's arm and begins to gather up the fabrics selected to take to the back of her shop where the work is done.

Phil briefly puts a hand on Clint's back to get him moving towards the door. Once they're outside he looks around the street and then looks at Clint.

"Do you feel up to grabbing dinner or would you rather go home?" Because that was a lot of new things all at once and probably felt a little invasive. Phil will understand if he wants comfortable flannel and no one poking at him.

There's that implication in giving him the choice. It could simply be because this is new, with several more implications that are spinning through his head, but it rankles. Just a little. Not enough to say anything, because Phil's being Phil, and Phil loves giving him choices and making sure he's comfortable.

But for fuck's sake, it's not like this is post-mission being dropped off in the middle of fuck knows where doing some wild and crazy shit and needs a wind down from. It's clothes. He can handle doing something a little new in his personal life for the sake of making Phil happy.

"Split the difference," he says instead, "and grab dinner to go on the way home. You gonna pay for that, too? Am I gonna end up with a tab when we're all said and done?"

"You're paying for dinner." Phil turns towards home. They have a few favorite places along the way that they can stop at. He'll even let Clint pick since he's making him pay.

He puts his hands in his pockets as they walk, occasionally scanning the street out of habit. "What did you think of her?"

It might be strange but he wants Clint to like his tailor. He's getting sentimental or something in his old age. Or maybe it's comfortable. This is his personal life that he's sharing, something that's important to him.

Feelings can make things so silly sometimes.

"Good; I might've busted out the s-word again if you insisted on that, too." And they're not talking about that word.

"I can see why you like her. It's a nice place, small, out of the way, not some busy big name celebrities might go to. And seeing as we all know how your suits are, I know she does good work. Sassy old lady. I can dig it."

He glances at Phil sidelong. They should talk. They really ought to talk. What comes out instead is: "We're taking Lola to go to fancy dinner, right? Gotta show up in style when we're already in style."

They can talk when they get home. They were about due for a serious conversation given how long it had been since their last one. Things were changing again between them. It isn't major, he feels. Just a natural progression.

"Yes, we'll take Lola." Phil will get her detailed before then just so she looks extra beautiful. "She hasn't been out in awhile."

He holds up a finger before Clint can talk. "And no, you don't get to drive her this time."

He does, in general, trust his car to Clint. But for this fancy date he wants to drive because he likes driving. It's relaxing for him, especially when it's not a high speed chase through crowded streets.

"Yeah yeah. Someday I'm gonna convince you to let me fly her, though." He can pilot a quinjet like nobody's business; surely he can fly a car without crashing. Probably.

"Did you have fun? I mean, did you like doing this? Or is it kind of more the buildup for me actually putting the whole thing on?"

"Some day." He knows Clint can fly but Lola's special. Phil has a hard time letting go of things that are special. Also, he has control issues which just about anyone could guess about him.

He takes his hand out of his pocket to brushes his hand against Clint's. "I enjoyed this. It's odd to think of it like sharing a hobby but that's what it felt like. And you are going to look excellent."

Phil knows the suits will be perfect. Clint is going to be devastatingly handsome.

"I'm gonna look good in something you shared with me deliberately in some fancy digs you helped pick out. I like that you're getting a kick out of it whether it's something sexy or just cuz you think it's nice."

He appreciates it, the touch of hand. Clint refrains from holding on the way he wants to, but it's good enough that they're touching.

"This is good, to you, and I wanna be good to you. And, hey, anytime we do anything fancy, I'll have something genuinely nice to fall back on, and not rent tuxes."

"The power is going to go to your head," he teases lightly. The trust they have means that neither one will take advantage of the other. Phil trusts that Clint will enjoy how much he reacts to Clint in a suit.

And he'll enjoy it too. Wanting Clint has only ever been stressful when he was determined to keep professional boundaries and when they started to talk about feelings. Other than that it's been very enjoyable.

Fun. Clint reminds him to have fun.

"You should go to one of Stark's fancy events in it. He'll be stunned." Phil always does enjoy messing with Tony Stark in any way he can get away with. He has to get a little of his own back for how much Stark bothers him.

"Oh, you know I'm gonna go to one of his swankier shindigs and start a whole bunch of rumors. I can't wait to see the tabloids suspect that I'm his new boytoy." And hey, no real PR work to do, because nobody gives a shit about tabloids. They're funny, honestly. Clint loves to poke fun of the more unflattering Avengers photos, and Tony has a board keeping track of which one thinks who's sleeping with who.

He rubs his neck a moment. "Do we have to talk?" Just to put the idea out there. "About where we are."

"They'll be very surprised you've stolen him from Captain Rogers." Phil keeps on top of all the Avengers news. Sometimes hidden among the rumors are things people shouldn't know and the only way for them to know was if they had direct access.

He and Pepper have worked closely to find the people inside Stark Industries willing to sell Avengers secrets to make a quick buck. He is very protective of his agents.

"We should," he replies with another brush of his hand against Clint's. "If you're serious about us taking a vacation together. That's... more than what we've been."

Lovers and friends is probably the best definition right now. Something like an extended vacation... that's different. That's partners. That's something that can't easily be brushed off with a cover story.

"But we can talk about it when we're home. We don't have to have it right now." Walking to go get dinner is a very public forum.

"We should if you're serious about taking me out to a fancy dinner," Clint points out. A romantic dinner. "And straying unusually close to flirty in public." Well. Inside of a little shop in front of a friend of sorts. Which is still more public than they have been, traditionally. Phil has always been very sternly serious about separating work and play, and to not let his feelings be known or to interfere with the work. There's no flirting or commentary or undue touching when they're at work. And in public they are friends and coworkers.

It does mean Clint has to think of if he really is serious about a vacation. Together. Somewhere alone and secluded and romantic. It's entirely possible with some fun intervention from Phil that they could stagger certain dates and forge flights and rentals and all else so that it doesn't look like they're going somewhere together. But it would still be suspect. And that's also just...a step even further from a dinner date.

There's that word again. Date.

Alter the course, then. "You just want to see me strip down in front of a horny little old lady and then watch me stay perfectly still while she pins a bunch of fabric to me and makes her little tutting noises while she makes alterations. What a devious trap. No weapons and nowhere to go."

Leah has no connection to that other side of his life outside of the suits she tailors for him. He felt comfortable letting her see that side of their relationship though it was unexpected even for himself.

"I do what to see you at the tender mercies of my tailor, yes. And I never tire of seeing you strip down." Phil can play along with the joke. It's a comfortable routine to fall back in. Clint jokes. Phil responds like he's bored. That's the dynamic they've had for a long time.

It's only flirtatious when they're alone. Or on a crowded New York street where no one cares that an Avenger and a secret agent are flirting.

Or dating.

"I am serious about the dinner." More importantly he's serious about the romancing. Phil knows himself well and he knows he's courting Clint with this. He's clearly ready to admit this is a relationship and that he wants it. Wants something more defined with Clint. "And you, Clint."

It's very tender, the admission. And it's difficult to know how to react to it. Is he surprised? Well, if he's honest, not really. He has at times thought of Phil as his boyfriend, internally, on occasion, sometimes. It sounds less flowery and dramatic than lover, more specific than partner. But he doesn't say the word. Saying it is different.

Making it in any way official is also different. It isn't like it's new, the idea that there are feelings involved. It's been made clear for a while now that this is definitely something more than just physical. But had remained otherwise undefined.

So why is the idea so frightening? Oh. Right. Because when's the last time he had a serious, lasting relationship? All of never.

"Oh hey, I love this sandwich place, let's get here."

His way of tabling the waiting conversation for, yes, a more private time.

There are only two instances wherein Clint's stopped, being recognized and asked for a photo or an autograph before awkwardly scurrying along before some kind of crowd forms. Going to a Stark party and being photographed with Nat deep in some Starbucks and noticed from a distance for whatever little articles tabloid or legit, that's a different kind of fame than having it be seen and noticed and put in his face. He's still acclimating to it. But the nice thing about being one of the less marketable Avengers who is, in action, seen from a distance more often than boots on the ground, means it's only a few times when he's out. Not hounded like Tony or with a trailing gaggle of fans like Thor.

He's pretty sure if people even notice Coulson, he's written off as a bodyguard, which is deeply entertaining. So long as they don't talk shop about anything serious on the way, Clint is content enough chatting amicably, munching on a bag of chips, until they're inside and in safety. And privacy.

Phil smiles to himself as Clint flees the conversation before it can go further. That's fine with him. He doesn't want to have this conversation on a public New York street either.

It's the way he does it that Phil finds amusing. A simple statement and gone. No excuse. No explanation. Just done. Not forever, but for now. It's straight to the point and direct as Clint often is.

So, the conversation turns casual. Some talk of work in the vaguest sense and a bit about the shows Phil's currently watching that are just as awful as last season but he keeps watching anyway. It's the sort of conversation they'd have anywhere.

Home feels a bit more important now. Phil insists on getting plates out to eat their sandwiches instead of from the paper they're wrapped in. They're civilized people.

Once they sit down to eat Phil figures they can ease back into the conversation. Unless Clint brings it up himself.

"I am telling you," says the less civilized person, mouth half-full as it is, "they already come wrapped in perfectly good plates so you don't have to waste dirtying up an actual plate." That's just common sense! But, as ever, he defers to Phil.

Knowing that he can and will act like a bachelor caveman when he's alone in his own place. So there.

He should probably bring up the finely dressed elephant in the room. Is he going to? No. At least, not yet. Because he's not super sure how to without going 'so we should talk' and then not knowing what to say after that. God. Phil's better with words.

"I've bent to you and Natasha's habit of eating Chinese straight from the carton. I need to draw the line somewhere." He drapes his jacket on the back of a chair and then rolls up his sleeves to the elbow so he won't get oil and vinegar stains. He also takes off his tie for the same reason.

The plates get set out and Phil is very deliberate about putting Clint's sandwich on his and then presenting it to him.

When he's seated with his own he allows for a few bites before starting the conversation that Clint's clearly thinking about but not saying. "So, do you want to label this a relationship or no?"

Fine, neat and tidy it is. If he weren't eating, he'd probably stick his tongue out.

And, as usual, as planned really, Phil is the one to not only get back to the topic but do so directly, very bluntly. It's in fact so blunt that Clint nearly chokes.

"This is kind of already a relationship," he points out. Which isn't wrong, but given they both know what they're talking about, it's needlessly pedantic. "We're sleeping together and we give a shit. Presumably, that's a relationship."

"Do you want people to know it's a relationship?" Phil continues forward like Clint isn't being pedantic and arguing the semantics of what they are. "Because it takes one cellphone camera to catch a picture of Hawkeye out with the bodyguard to start a media cascade."

Their romantic dinner could be seen. There would be no way to pass it off as a casual dinner between coworkers. Not with everything Phil's thinking about planning.

"Because that's what comes next for us. We go public, in a sense." Phil suspects it will be a surprise to many people. Not everyone but a few. They are very close.

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