Phil looked around the place with a modicum of satisfaction with some money spent to do it up to a decent standard the place wouldn't be so bad. Phil wouldn't mind living here, not that he had a choice in that, although it was small, it was damn convenient. Unfortunately, that money wasn't available, and that left it as a mouldy draughty pit. All his stuff was boxed up in one of the dryer corners. He had gone out and brought a simple rail he could hang a few suit on, all covered in suit bags, as were the shirts to stop the damp getting to them. The small bathroom was functioning and as clean as he could scrub it. His lease had come up yesterday on his old place, which meant tonight was his first one here. He had brought a simple and cheap camp bed; made it up with proper sheets and blankets all neatly cornered and tuck in, he wasn't going to reach the levels of a bag! It would have to do, it wasn't like he was out on the streets, he could manage just fine. Plus a full nights sleep anywhere would be a luxury, between the restaurant, visits to the bank, packing up his stuff and cleaning this place, he was exhausted. In the same shop he had brought a small camping stove, it wasn't practical to use the kitchen downstairs. The apartment had a completely different entrance to the restaurant, and no way was he stepping out in the dead of winter and opening up the restaurant for a cup of cocoa before bed.

He looked at his watch and sighed. It was going to be another late night, he was at least pleased he didn't now have to get into his car and drive home. He had humped up the last of his belongings, and now it was time to crash, as distasteful as that idea seemed looking around. He laid down after changing into his night things, it was definitely not the most comfortable bed he had ever slept in but it was only minutes until sleep claimed him. Sadly, it wasn't much more than that before he was tossing and turning, and beating the pillow into submission, anything to get some sleep, maybe the cheapest put up bed in the shop was going to be a false economy!

Phil woke early, the sun glare almost blinding him as he opened his eyes, reminded him, as he furiously blinked away the flashes before his eyeballs, that he needed to get something to work as a drapes.

He made a beeline for the bathroom, still blurry eyed. He came out after a piss, teeth clean and a quick wash. Shaving would have to wait until after coffee which was when he realised that in the rush to get the last of his stuff in he had completely forgotten to get any milk. The mugs were also still packed away in one of the boxes stacked against the wall, knowing his luck the bottom one! He sighed, maybe the store down the road stocked mugs and milk.

He got dressed, just some jeans and a jersey, he didn't need to suit up till later when he went to work, not at six in the morning. It took him some time to find some shoes that would go with a pair of jeans and that you couldn't see your own reflection in, and by the time he had done all that he was caffeine free grumpy as hell. He pulled a comb through his ever thinning hair trying not peer too closely at the skin that showed through his thatch. This place was depressing enough without thinking about his age, lack of relationship status (and why was he contemplating his lack of love life now!) or the fact that late nights now have consequences, which also show in the mirror and the dark circles around his eyes. Depressing, depressing, and more depressing!

He grabbed for his keys and slammed the door shut on the way out. Old age seemed to be catching him up fast though because he made it half way down the street and the heavens open and he realised that he had forgotten his jacket! He ducked under some of the shop canopies as he moved along, determined not to turn back however wet he would get. Besides he would be soaked by the time he got home anyway. The hair was already sticking to the back of his neck. He rounded the corner and looked down the street with dismay there was only one shop with an overhang, and the store was at the very end of the street, by the time he got there he would be soaked!

He made it to the half way point and the shop shelter, stopping for a moment away from the constant pounding, he watched as the raindrops bounce and ricochet off the sidewalk, a spectre of colours shining off the puddles forming at the road edge. Water dripped down his collar, he must look like a drowned rat. A body came running past him with a newspaper draped across his head. Phil wondered if it was petty to feel jealous of a paper hat in the rain!

The man stopped a few shops down and rummaged through his back pocket and pulling out what was obviously a key as he started to open the door in front of him. Phil's sighed and continued on stubbornly ignoring the rain that soaked into him.

He was passing the shop that the paper umbrella man had disappeared into when the door suddenly opened and a hand reached out and grabbed his arm. Phil spun around, not sure if he was under attack only to find the coffee guy from the other week. Phil racked his brain for a name and thankfully came up with one.

"Mr Barton?" He said unsurely, concerned after a moment that he had gotten the name wrong after all, "Isn't it? Can I help you?" Phil inquired, looking down at where the man still had his hand wrapped round his arm.

"Clint, yes." Clint let go quickly, "Sorry but I saw you outside and I have an umbrella in the shop you can borrow."

"Oh," Phil sounded rather bewildered by the kind offer, "ah thanks, I'm pretty wet already," he couldn't help smiling as he looked down at himself and the wet mess of his appearance.

Clint smiled back, "Come on in, I'm just turning the coffee machine on, and I have a towel you can borrow too."

"Um, I was just on my way to the store for some milk," Phil looked in the direction of the store.

"The one on the corner?"

"Yes."

Clint looked down at his watch, "It doesn't open for another thirty minutes I'm afraid. There isn't a whole load of early morning traffic down this road, it's not worth opening too early."

"Oh," he could hear the disappointment in his tone, he was a little lost in that way one got in a new area. He might have owned the restaurant in these parts for a few years now but it was becoming obvious that he didn't really know anything about the place, especially this early in the day.

He looked back at the younger man who looked pleasantly back at him, "Coffee then," Clint said and turned away as if there was no chance he would say no.

"Thanks," Phil said befuddled. He stepped into the intimate little shop. Clint was already taking chairs off tables, he turned as Phil moved forward into his space, "the machine just needs to warm up for a couple of minutes."

Phil nodded, and started to take chairs down himself, he was familiar with that, he felt less awkward with something to do. Clint disappeared into a back room, Phil imagined a kitchen lurked back there, when he came back he was holding a towel. He handed it across to Phil, who took it with a tentative smile, quickly rubbing his hair, glad to stop the feel of water dripping down his collar.

"I got caught out myself this morning," Clint says congenially.

"I didn't even notice the clouds when I left."

"You're a little early to the restaurant today," Clint said before jokingly continuing on, "you sleep there or something?"

"Ah," Phil said looking back to the front door.

…

Clint noticed how uncomfortable his first customer of the day looked, and tried to smooth it over with, "Not that it's any of my business, of course!"

"No it's fine, I just..." Phil had finished with the chairs and now looked unsurely about the place.

You didn't need an education to see that the restaurant owner wasn't quite his usual calm self this morning, not that Clint knew jack shit about the guy, he had only officially met him once and that hadn't been exactly memorable, apart from the fact that Clint had been all too aware of how attractive the guy was. Trip had filled in a few blanks for him after, he probably shouldn't have gone fishing, but the chef had been over generous with his information and Clint hadn't stopped him. He now knew that his partner in the restaurant had recently died and that said partner had once been his other half as well. So it was not that surprising that Phil was standing in his shop looking damned tired and run down. It wasn't normal to see him about at this time of day either, the restaurant ran very different times to the coffee shop, he was pretty much closing up shop when the restaurant was opening, "Hey sit-down, the machine's all ready for firing up."

Phil sent him a wan smile and pulled out the first chair he came across, sitting sideways on so he could see what Clint was doing and watch out of the window too, which seemed to be his favoured view.

Clint kept half an eye on the man, the first time he had met him when he and his head chef had come in, he had had an air of depression about him, and according to Trip that really wasn't the character of the guy at all. He was apparently a calm, collected and genuinely nice guy, which apparently everyone that came across him agreed upon. Now Clint wasn't saying he wasn't probably all those things but he hadn't witnessed much of it, not that he seemed horrible or anything, but calm and collected didn't quite fit, more moody and vague. Not that he was any stranger to moody and vague at times himself he had friends that would say those were his best virtues. Still he wasn't going to steal anything so he moved into the back kitchen.

…

Phil had lost himself in watching the drops of rain as they ran down the outside of the glass, he remembered as a child sitting in his dorm rooms doing just that, imagining them racing down, trying to guess which one would win. He turned from the view out the window to discover that Clint had disappeared into the back, and from the delicious smells wafting into room he was starting work. Phil felt guilty; he must look like some fucking charity case for the guy to literally pull him off the street, he looked down at himself, jersey plastered to his chest, jeans uncomfortably clinging to his thighs and shoes that from the feel inside weren't made for puddles. Yep, he probably wasn't far off a shopping trolley full of garbage bags! He needed to get his shit together, he had let his brain wander for the last few days. At least, when he was doing the flat up he had a purpose but that was as good as it was going to get, for the time being at least and now he was sitting around in some poor guys shop when he obviously had a ton of work to do to get ready, because Clint had felt sorry for him. Shit. Phil knew he had an unhealthy tendency to wallow. He was mostly a happy guy but from time to time, things would get a little heavy for him, he thought it was pretty much the same for everyone and he would snap out of it soon, he hoped so, because he was not even saying the word depression out loud, no way. Life had sucked royally recently, he had an excuse, but this poor guy didn't deserve this first thing in the morning.

He should go.

Phil was halfway out of his seat when Clint came through again, two plates in his hand, he froze as he saw Phil standing.

"Ah, I'm sure you have lots of work to do I should get out of your hair."

"Nah, I'm all prepared, besides you don't want to put this to waste do you?" he asked as he laid a large plateful of bacon, eggs and toast down beside Phil and one for himself as well, "Need to start the day off well," he smiled waiting to see what his guest would do.

Phil stared down at the plate and then back up, "Wow, you are really good at the heroic gestures aren't you?"

Clint laughed, "Hardly, I was cooking for myself, so it's not exactly swoon-worthy. I'll just get some coffee," he waved Phil back down into his seat.

Phil sat gingerly, he was conscious of trying not to make the chair covers damp, that hardly seem fair, he grabbed the towel by his side now and stuck it under him. He tried to ignore the cold that was starting to pimple his skin, it wasn't cold outside but sitting in damp clothes first thing in the morning left him feeling chilly. So much so he grabbed the hot coffee the moment it was placed in front of him, which made Clint laugh, "First one of the day?"

"God YES, that was what the milk was for."

Clint nodded his head as he tucked into his breakfast. "You don't have it delivered to the restaurant?"

Phil's head shot up, "Hell, I didn't think of that," he sighed, "I'm being a complete moron at the moment." He companion sported a puzzled frown as if he couldn't put all the pieces of what should be an easily solved jigsaw together. Phil felt rather obliged to give some sort of explanation, even if the man next to him was trying his best not to inquire. "I ah... Just moved into the apartment above the restaurant, and seemed to forget a whole lot of things I needed in the rush of the move.

Clint nodded, "I didn't even know you had an apartment to rent up there."

"It's not been rented out before, I've just done it up a bit, seems silly renting a place on the other side of town when I can be near work, it's just convenient, you know?" Phil stopped abruptly realising he was in danger of over doing his string of little white lies. Clint thankfully was just nodding his head between mouthfuls; Phil cut into the last of his breakfast, filling his mouth before it overtook him.

"So did the guys from the restaurant help you move?" Clint asked innocently before taking a swallow of coffee.

Phil closed his eyes briefly cursing the hole he was digging himself, but not seeing an option. "Ah, no, they actually don't know I've moved in there, I...ah... I don't think they would but I don't want them taking advantage of me being on call all the time," Phil silently sent an apology to all his staff.

"So you did it all yourself? That's a big job."

Phil shrugged his shoulders, "I didn't have much to move. The place I was in was fully furnished, so no heavy stuff really."

"Oh, so you've had to buy all new stuff then?"

"Hmm," Phil made a non-committal noise. "This is great," he said indicating his coffee, trying desperately to shift the conversation away from himself.

"Well now you are in the neighbourhood you can pop in anytime." Clint said with a smile.

"I will," Phil remarked seriously, "I'm not much of a cook."

Clint's voice was amused as he said, "You own a restaurant, and you're not much of a cook?"

"I'm more of a front man."

"Oh, the eye candy."

Phil laughed out loud, "I'd like to think my main job is more like the fancy shape napkin folder."

…

It was Clint's turn to laugh and seriously reassess his first opinion of the man sitting opposite him, he had a wicked sense of humour and... Shit, eyes that belong in some Japanese hentai anime. Clint needed to move before he started to stare excessively, especially when he saw a shiver run through the man's body. Fuck, his hands tingled to touch and send warmth through the restaurant owner. This wasn't what he planned when he got up this morning. Jeez the guy was fucking mourning and Clint was having sinful thoughts about him!

Maybe Phil read something in his gaze though because he was the one moving, he had downed the last dredges of his coffee. Clint watched his hand as the fingers flick nervous round the mug before he replaced the empty cup on the table and then his chair was dragged back on the floor, and he was standing. Clint found himself still staring from his seat dumbly. His brain eventually caught up and he stood smiling self-consciously.

"Well, thank you, I appreciate you opening early for me."

Clint shrugs his shoulders, "It's no big, I usually get myself some breakfast before I start, it's good to have the company," the steely blue grey of Phil's eye rove over him and Clint barely managed not to convulsively swallow. He nevertheless pushed his luck to one more level, "you're welcome any day."

...

Phil fumbled at the table edge with his hands, he wasn't entirely sure what was happening here, was he reading too much into it? But Clint's body language screamed flirting, but it had been an age since he had even been receptive to such things. Which was why he was seriously doubting that any such thing was happening. Plus the fact that he was sitting here practically dripping on the guys floor and his hair must look as flat as fuck, not that it doesn't anyway but he does know a trick or two to cover the thinning areas, which was pretty much the whole of it! He hadn't even shaved, thank god he had at least washed and brushed his teeth!

Phil needed to get out of here because he was actually thinking about how he looked in front of this guy, shit, Nick had only been dead... Shit. He actually felt guilty for even think about looking at a good looking guy.

Nevertheless he was grateful for his hospitality, when he had walked in here earlier he had felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. The only contacted he had with people other than his staff recently had been bankers and solicitors whose eyes accused him of incompetency all the time, not that they weren't wrong. It would be a long time before he could look in the mirror and not see a fool. Ten minutes in this man's company had lighted his way considerably and he needed to take that with him, sure he had weathered some blows but this simple interaction made him realise he needed to move on. He grinned warmly, "I might just take you up on that, after all to quote Trip, you coffee is 'orgasmic'."

Clint snorted and choked a little on his mouthful, looking up in surprise. "Fuck! Allow a guy to swallow first will yah."

"Sorry, blame Trip." Phil replied lightly, and looked a little longer at Clint than strictly necessary. He found himself rather basking in the smile that was returned.

Phil stuck his hand in his pocket, "What do I owe you for breakfast."

Clint waved him off, "Nah, on the house."

Phil frowned, but he could see he wasn't going to get anywhere. He surprised himself by saying, "Okay, but you have to let me return the favour."

Clint eyebrows shot up, "Might take me a good few more breakfast's to rate a meal in your restaurant."

"Who said I was talking about the restaurant," Phil teased back, before he had even thought through that sentence, no way was he going to be able to take anyone back to his place, even if this way too attractive man for Phil would even agree to it!

"Hmm, but by your own admission, you can't cook!"

"You see though my plan so easily, you will just have to sit down with me in the restaurant then," Phil looked down at the floor the instant the words come out of his mouth, he wasn't sure where the hell this loose mouth of his was coming from. It had been years since he flirted with a man, he struggling to balance whether he felt unfaithful or excited about the fact, "I should go, thanks again," he said quickly looking briefly up at Clint, who was staring unabashedly at him. He picked up the towel he had been sitting on and folded it up before placing it carefully on the table. "I need to get my milk!"

Clint held out his hand, and Phil took it and shook the hand, looking down when Clint brought up his other hand and enclosed his thoroughly. "I'll see you around then, now you're a neighbour."

Phil nodded and reluctantly pulled his hand back before walking out the shop.