A/N: So if you're a Clexa trash person like I am on tumblr, there's a small chance you've seen a few posts that will go along with this. One is a picture of the model from episode 2x15 with the question: When the hell was this built and why is it so detailed? The next is a comic of Clarke and Lexa building it. Which is what this is based on. I don't know if I will be able to find the first post, but I will link the comic on my profile if you wanna take a look at it. Enjoy :D

P.S. I am capable of writing something that won't kill your feelings! Would'ya look at that!

"Did you finish the door yet, Lexa?"

Lexa sighed. Her hands are tired of working, her brain feels numb with the constant task of molding and re-molding the pliant material she and Clarke are handling. She bends the small door in her hands one last time mumbling, "I'm sick of building this." under her breath. She folds her fingers around it, holding it in her fist above Clarke's outstretched hand.

"Well, if you had concentrated and continued planning the attack on the map," Clarke was irritated, and it showed easily in her voice. "We wouldn't have to build this model, now would we?"

"I wasn't the one who sat on it…" Lexa says, smirking. She looks at Clarke through the corner of her eyes, not needing to turn her head to see Clarke's wide eyes and flushed expression. She decided to continue teasing, wanting to see how far she could push her. "And you seem to prefer it when my attention is focused on you."

Apparently she had pushed much too far. At first Clarke's gaze just drifted down, unable to look Lexa in the eyes or in her smug expression. Then she realized that she was staring at Lexa's toned arms, drawing on the lines of lean muscle usually obscured by armor and dark clothing. Then Clarke blushed even harder, turned her head away, her hair falling to cover the side of her face, obscuring Lexa's view and reached down distractedly to continue working. "Well I don't want that type of attention from you."

Realizing her mistake, Lexa attempted to make amends(albeit feebly). "I-I'm sorry, Clarke…" Lexa reached down blindly and picked up one of her carved trees. "I… made you some tiny trees…" she said in a hushed voice. Clarke still wouldn't look at her. "Clarke." She tried again.

"Keep making your trees." She responded somewhat harshly.

"I said I'm sorry." Lexa said. She was starting to get worried now; she didn't know how exactly to continue. She'd never seen Clarke like this - she refused to look her in the eyes, she was skittish and nervous. Clarke was rarely skittish and nervous. Lexa pursed her lips and furrowed her eyebrows worriedly, feeling the gear in between them pushing into her crinkled skin. She pivoted her upper body, raising her right hand and poking at Clarke's shoulder. "Hey,"

Finally, Lexa gets a response. Clarke turns to her, her face less red than before but still slightly distressed. "Fine." She murmurs, and Lexa's face softens, the corners of her lips upturning in a small smile. "We need to finish this, though."

Lexa's smile disappears, and she turns back to witling small trees. This is so boring, she thinks, her fingers just going along with muscle memory at this point.

Clarke shook her head slightly, making some of her hair fall to the side of her face so Lexa wouldn't be able to see her as her eyes watched Lexa's hands. She hadn't had many opportunities to see the Commander without long sleeves or armor, so she was secretly savoring this while she had the chance. She would be lying if she said she wasn't distracted by Lexa, even though she was only watching her hands idly working in her lap.

Lexa feels Clarke's gaze on her from the moment Clarke turns away and tries to appear busy. It probably was not the best of ideas to be witling with a very sharp knife without looking at said knife, but Lexa did it anyway. Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at Clarke, an idea crossing her mind. Her eyebrows lifted and a small, lopsided smile graced her lips. Lexa carefully set down the knife and tree beside of her. She set her right hand down on the ground in front of her, slowly pushing herself towards Clarke. Wrapping and arm around Clarke's shoulder, her smile grew and her eyebrows quirked.

At Lexa's unexpected presence, Clarke began blushing furiously. When she felt Lexa's hand burning through the fabric on her shoulder, thumb carefully brushing over the skin on the base of her neck, her heart started racing. Clarke's head tilted down away from Lexa's, she managed to stammer out, "What d-do you w-want now?"

Lexa's grin only intensified, her right hand coming up to cup the side of Clarke's face and draw their gazes together. Her thumb traced Clarke's lips lightly, eyes playful, noses nearly close enough to brush.

Clarke averted her gaze, attempting to salvage the situation. "W-we need to f-f-finish the mod- Lexa!"

Lexa's hands had relocated, one to the small of her back and the other to her shoulder, pushing her to the ground. Lexa followed her immediately, sealing their lips together softly, resting half on top of Clarke. She felt Clarke's hand reach up to grip her bicep, the other resting limply on the floor. She saw Clarke close her eyes, and heard her exhale into the kiss.

Abruptly, Lexa pulled away and pushed herself up onto her arms. "Now, we can finish the model."

Clarke's left hand twisted around her shoulder, the other twining in Lexa's thick, unbraided hair. "I think I would rather do this…" she responded, pulling Lexa back down to her.

Needless to say, the model was going to be far from their minds for at least another hour.