License to Phil

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"It was my pleasure," Phil replied easily, voice careful to not reveal how intensely true that was. Bucky looked great in the waistcoat; he was suave, dignified. The intimacy of the garment was what was exciting about it, compared to a normal waistcoat that didn't require another person to put on- this one necessitated closeness.

As Phil leaned forward, Clint found himself leaning back a bit, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the words being spoken to him. A job it seemed…no…more like a chance. He had to admit, things had only gone further downhill after his time in the circus. He had become a person he never wanted to be regardless of the skills he possessed, and quite frankly, he was tired of being attacked in this prison and forced into solitary confinement. Clint knew he would lose his mind if he stayed here too long.

"At its most basic, SHIELD is an espionage and law enforcement organization that uses its agents and resources to protect the world and keep the peace." Phil gave him a steadfast, determined look. He truly believed in what SHIELD did and that it was on the side of good. 

"Steal is a harsh way of…" he gave up all pretense. “Yes, I need you to steal something for me."

"Steal what from who?

He tosses her the first file, explaining. "Inside is a photo of a briefcase that holds SHIELD tech, stolen by AIM operatives last March. We've been finding and clearing out as many of their bases as we can, but now they're transporting it, and we know where they're taking it. Behind the first photo is a map, points A and B marked off, as well as the route we think they're taking."

Making sure the shirt fabric underneath wasn’t going to be rumpled, Phil began from the top, tightening the laces and keeping them even and centered with a finger hooked under each row of ‘x’s as he worked. Phil forced himself to slow down, to not rush through it.

Bucky had moved his hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it smooth once Phil started to pull the waistcoat lacings tighter - a wrinkle trapped under the tight material would cause irritation and, knowing him, a sulk-fest as he’d wiggle around trying to get rid of the line pressing into his skin. He closed his eyes and leaned forward just a little, enough to counter Phils tugs and stop himself falling back against the other man. No matter how tempting.

Given the go-ahead to continue, Phil did, cinching the lacings back where they'd loosened from the brief reprieve, listening carefully for changes in Bucky's breathing, signs of distress. He took the liberty Bucky gave him and made it just the tiniest bit tighter, liking the clean, smooth lines it forced the man's body into. Bucky looked sharp, crisp, and the way the metal eyelets of the corset looked with the black lacings criss-crossing in a neat line down his back satisfied some primal need in Phil. 

Phil pulled the curtain closed behind him and turned back just in time to see Bucky’s arms come back down, t-shirt in one hand, the other running through his hair, smoothing it back in place. The muscles of his back flexed as he slid on the crisp shirt he’d brought, fingers buttoning it up in front, still facing away from Phil. 

Even Steve hadn’t dressed him before - aside from sorting his tie in the way back when, once or twice, or one time pulling a sweater on over his head after the Rescue (and Bucky would always think of that one particular rescue with a capital R, for its importance) - so this was. Nice. He didn’t let himself use the word ‘special’ in his head, because he knew he could afford too much sentimentality to things that the other person didn’t think warrented them, but this was nice. Good. Very calming. 

Making sure the shirt fabric underneath wasn't going to be rumpled, Phil began from the top, tightening the laces and keeping them even and centered with a finger hooked under each row of 'x's as he worked. Phil forced himself to slow down, to not rush through it.

"Sure," Bucky nodded, straightening back up and giving a brief glance and grin to the woman behind the counter - well, it was polite to let her know they were going with it, right? She met his gaze briefly and gave a small nod, and he headed over to the dressing room. 

Phil pulled the curtain closed behind him and turned back just in time to see Bucky's arms come back down, t-shirt in one hand, the other running through his hair, smoothing it back in place. The muscles of his back flexed as he slid on the crisp shirt he'd brought, fingers buttoning it up in front, still facing away from Phil. 

Bucky looked down his front - half to see the clothing, and half to hide his grin at Phils enthusiasm. He was glad he’d thought to mention it to him before he brought one. The other mans enjoyment was visible and, well, Bucky liked that. He hadn’t been privy to too many of Phils smiles, and Bucky was rapidly discovering he liked them.

Phil made an approving noise, grateful at Bucky helping to hold the garment closer to his body. It still wasn't enough though; he needed to see it on him. 

Phil had driven past the unremarkable brick building before, but had only gone in once, on a whim, and not for an adequate length of time to really explore. It was a costume shop- a boutique, really. One whose inventory was full of vintage pieces from all different decades with few to no duplicates, and therefore rare to come across, and more modern, hand-crafted items, some with a fashionable inclination to more of an adult couture. Of course there were also more traditional suits, vests, dresses, and business-casual button-ups and slacks for all genders, but Phil chose the store for the specific laced waistcoat they were seeking. 

Bucky grinned as he fell into step just behind Phil, following him into the shop happily, hands in his pockets. He had one of his own shirts under his arm, because he wasn’t going to try this over a T-shirt.