Author's note: and it is after a long absence that I come back with this little piece of fluff. If you like my work, I urge you to check my username out on archiveofourown, I post more regularly on there. Please enjoy the Clexa feels ! I don't own Clarke or Lexa (my bad, really).
Lexa sighs contently as she wakes up from her afternoon nap, the sun still shining through the blue curtains of the living room. Green eyes open and explore the room in search of – oh, there she is.
From where Lexa is laying, she can see Clarke in her small studio. She's sat on a bar stool, legs crossed as her brow furrows in concentration. In front of her is a large canvas, about halfway painted. Since she's still on the couch, Lexa can't quite make up what Clarke sketched however, she's sure she'd love it.
She loves Clarke's paintings but what she loves the most is the way her blue eyes are focused on each line, each caress of the brush on the canvas. The way she smiles when she tentatively draws just the perfect outline. The way her blonde hair falls in front of her beautiful face, and she has to stop painting to replace her long locks behind her ears.
Lexa secretly enjoys the way Clarke gets slightly annoyed when she can't get the exact colour she wants she thinks it's actually cute. Lexa loves Clarke's bright, hyperactive imagination, how she travels through her mind to choose an idea, and she adores how Clarke works to bring that same exact idea to life.
What never fails to bring a smile to Lexa's face is the way Clarke's blue eyes shine with excitement when she rushes over to her wife to show her her art.
-Are you done daydreaming ?
Lexa hadn't noticed Clarke taking off her earphones to smirk at her. She got up from the couch, leaning down to kiss Clarke's soft lips as the blonde hummed in appreciation.
Lexa wrapped her arms around her wife from behind while Clarke finished her painting.
-It's beautiful, Clarke.
-It's not even done ! The blonde protested with a smile.
-Doesn't matter. It's still pretty.
-You dork, Clarke whispered as she turned around to give Lexa another kiss. When the two pulled away, Clarke's laugh echoed through the small room.
Lexa looked at her in confusion :
-What ? What's so funny ?
-Come here, said Clarke, you have yellow paint on the tip of your nose.
As Clarke got rid of the stain, green locked onto blue, and before she knew it, Lexa's strong arms were lifting her up, carrying her to their bedroom. Clarke's art supplies fell to the ground, and Lexa's smile only grew wider as Clarke chuckled, her hands clinging to the brunette.
And it's with a smile that Lexa thinks about how Clarke's paintings are beautiful, but not near as beautiful as the artist herself.
