A/N: Based upon this Tumblr prompt: Imagine A of your OTP wanting to wake up B with a kiss, but when they lean down over them, B sneezes in their face. Bonus if B's sneeze is one of those super powerful scary sneezes. Bonus 2 if B sneezes like a newborn kitten.
The morning light shining in through the window is what woke Clarke up. Her eyes opened as she squinted and blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the brightness of the day. Yawning in confusion—for she wasn't in the guest room she'd been given during her stay in Polis—, she took a short moment to become aware of her surroundings and realized where she was.
She was in Lexa's room. In Lexa's bed. With Lexa right next to her. And they were naked.
A lot had happened ever since she'd been forcefully brought to Polis and in the midst of it all was the strained relationship between her and the Commander. At first, Clarke had been absolutely furious with Lexa, even going so far as the spit in her face upon their reunion. But as time wore on and more threats to both the coalition and Lexa were revealed, Clarke found herself becoming less and less angry with her. With more time spent in Polis, somewhere along the line, forgiveness and understanding about what she'd done had set in. Their relationship was still on the mend, but things were going pretty great for them now. At least if last night had been any indication of that.
Her thoughts strayed to night before and a blush spread across her cheeks as she remembered everything. Her body was pleasantly sore in ways it hadn't been for quite some time and the smile that adorned her face couldn't be wiped off. She looked down at Lexa who was, oddly enough, still peacefully asleep; her hardened features having smoothed out and relaxed after their night of bliss.
Before she could stop herself, Clarke reached over and began tracing her finger over Lexa's bare arm. For such a battle-worn warrior, her skin was surprisingly soft. When the Commander stirred and opened her eyes, focusing them on her, she stopped her motions.
"No," Lexa murmured. "Don't stop." When Clarke started lightly running her fingers over her skin once more, she sighed in contentment, a feeling she had believed she would never get to experience again.
It was a little hard to believe that they were here together like this; that Clarke had been able to forgive Lexa for her actions and manage to still have feelings for her. It had been hard to believe when they'd fallen into bed last night and it was hard to believe now. Yet here they were.
The eye contact they maintained held an intimacy that they desperately needed to have a discussion about. And soon. But right now, all Clarke could think about was kissing Lexa. She leaned in with every intention to close the distance between them, but a sudden involuntary urge overtook her. Before she could turn her head, she sneezed…right. In. Lexa's. Face.
Mortified, Clarke looked at Lexa whose face was scrunched up and eyes closed.
"Honestly, Clarke," Lexa finally said, "I had thought that spitting on me was enough."
"Oh my god, I am so sorry." She buried face into her pillow in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to sneeze on you, I swear. I was actually going to kiss you, but I couldn't stop myself and—"
"Clarke," her gentle, but firm voice said. "You're rambling. Really, though, it's alright."
"God, I can't even look at you right now. I just wanna crawl in a hole and die," the blonde moaned.
"Yes, well, I am afraid that I can't let you do that, Clarke. I would be terribly unhappy if you were to die as I rather enjoy your companionship."
"But I just sneezed on you, Lexa," she replied, her words muffled by the pillow.
"And I said it's alright. Clarke," the Commander forced her face out of the pillow. "Look at me."
When Clarke dared to look, she was startled to find her wearing an amused grin. "You thought it was…funny?"
Lexa laughed, a sound that Clarke had never thought she would ever hear. "Yes, I did. And it was quite adorable too. You sneeze like a tiny kitten."
Clarke scoffed with indignation. "My sneezes are not adorable."
"Yes, they are."
"No, they're not." She poked Lexa in the ribs and was delighted when the other girl laughed and scooted away. "Lexa, are you ticklish?"
She shook her head and scoffed. "Of course not. I—No, Clarke, stop!"
Not giving Lexa the chance to finish her sentence, Clarke quickly straddled her hips, pinned both of her wrists together above her head with just one hand, and began wiggling her fingers up and down her side with the other. Lexa squirmed and writhed beneath her, her laughter coming out more frequently as Clarke continued with her tickle assault. The older girl tried to buck her off with her hips, but all she succeeded in was turning Clarke on as their pelvises repeatedly connected.
"Clarke, beja! Please!" she begged.
Simply splaying her fingers against her ribcage, Clarke leaned down and whispered in Lexa's ear, "I remember you saying those words in a little different of a tone last night." She nipped at her earlobe, and smirked when she heard the hitch in her breath.
With Clarke's comment, the mood in the room instantly changed. All playfulness disappeared as they stared into one another's eyes, Lexa's hands still being restrained above her head. Lexa's gaze flitted down to Clarke's lips—lips that had given her so much pleasure the night before. She swallowed down a lump in her throat and said, "Wanna see if you can make me say them again?"
Clarke crushing their lips together as her hands roamed her body was her answer.