I promised myself that if I got even ONE review on the first entry, I would upload the second. So, here it is! Short but sweet... (I love Clintasha)

Entry #2: Manhattan

"Well, that was fun."

Agent Clint Barton brushed more water out of his eyes and then squinted at his also-sopping-wet companion. "That's not quite the right word for it, Nat."

Natasha Romanoff shrugged her shoulders and shook out her wet hair, trying to coax it back into place. "Oh, relax. It was an accident."

"Accident? I saw you tip that boat over!" exclaimed Clint, pointing a finger at Natasha. "You enjoyed watching me fall in!"

"You're supposed have peerless reflexes. What happened to them back there? You should have seen it coming before the boat was already doing a headstand in the water. And besides, I was only trying to get you to loosen up and have a little fun. You've been a grouch ever since SHIELD let us disband. This was supposed to be a happy day!"

Clint removed his water-logged jacket and began wringing it out like a dishrag. "Oh. So when you put cheese whiz in my boots before we left Stark Tower this morning, that was supposed to make my day happier?"

"But that was funny!"

"Right. Like the time you bought me that new hat and filled it with silly string."

Natasha snickered, and then put an arm around Clint's shoulders. "I only pull pranks on people I like," she reassured him. "You've never seen Nick Fury trying to get silly string out of his hair."

Clint scowled. "He doesn't have any hair."

"Don't worry," Natasha consoled him. "I have something really good planned for this evening…"

Clint pulled away in a flash, crossing his arms and giving her a suspicious glare. "What?" he demanded.

"Dinner. At the best restaurant in Manhattan. I already made a 7:00 reservation. And I'm paying." Natasha gave Clint a triumphant smile, and he slowly began to smile back.

"Are you going to wear a nice dress?"

"Yes."

"And can I wear a bowtie?"

"You'll look dashing."

"And you'll pay for dessert, too?"

"Of course."

Clint straightened his damp shirt collar and smoothed his hair. "I feel better already." Then a disturbed expression crossed his face and he shifted his weight to his other foot, a clear sign of discomfort. "Er, Nat?"

"What's wrong?"

"Just promise me one thing."

Nodding solemnly, Natasha smiled up at him. "Anything you say."

"No whoopee cushions on the chair, please," he begged, turning a little red.

Natasha smirked, patting him on the back. "Not this time," she promised.

Review if you enjoyed it! ;)

~Alassiel