A/N: I am Harpoe trash. You may not know this. It is an important fact for this story you are about to read. This pretty much takes place in season one where the gunners are all in the little foxholes getting ready for the grounder attack. Let's imagine that Harper and Monroe got a few minutes alone in there and their possible incoming doom brings out new feelings. In Monroe's POV.
Disclaimer: I do not own The 100. You know that because you probably don't hate me as much as the guy who does. Do people still hate him anymore? I've been trying to stay away from Tumblr recently, it's gotten toxic.
"Go ahead. We'll be fine," I assure as Bellamy crawls out of the foxhole. We've been sat here for what must have been hours and my mind's started to wander. We could die today, her and I. We probably will; outnumbered, out-skilled. We're just kids fighting for a home. Well, Bellamy and Clarke are. I'm fighting for her. Harper. The girl who protected me in the Sky Box, who held me when I cried for my family. Who I fell hopelessly in love with.
I can't remember when I knew I was in love with her, it's just a blur. No one tries to remember much from when they're in the Box, but somethings are important to you. To me. Her hands in my hair while she braids it. Lean arms wrapping around me during a sleepless night. How could I not love her?
She doesn't know. It was too risky, too selfish. I couldn't jeopardize our relationship like that just so I could have my big, angsty gay teen moment.
But now we're going to die. Now, if she hates me for it, neither of us will have to bear it for long. I have to do this now.
"Harper," I start, looking at her. She takes her eyes off the trees and stares back at me. Those eyes. As blue as the river. Full of truth and love and hope and Harper.
I can't stop myself, "We might die today and I can't die without letting you know what you mean to me."
She scoots closer, waiting. "You've always been there for me. You've always been my friend. You cared for me when we were kids. When I turned 16, you gave me a cupcake that cost you three weeks rations."
She laughs a bit at that, her eyes watering now. We shared that cupcake. It was the best thing either of us had eaten in years.
"But somewhere in there, something changed," there are no tears in my eyes. None at all. "I started to look at you different. I didn't know what was happening; I still don't know. It doesn't matter," I'm rambling now, spitting out the first thing that comes into my head.
"We're going to die, but I can't let that happen without tell you this. Harper, I lo-" her lips press against mine and I freeze. The kiss is soft and warm like her. She puts more force on the kiss and I allow myself to melt into her. My hands go up to hold her against me and she does the same. She pulls back for air, her hands still on my cheeks, and looks at me. There are tears in my eyes (I admit) and shock on my face. She smiles that brilliant smile I've loved since I was 15.
"I love you, too." I smile, relieved, and tilt my head to press a kiss to her palm. "And I always will," she continues, "We're not gonna die here." She leans her forehead against mine.
"We will if we don't watch the forest," I whisper. I really, really don't want to ruin the moment, but we have a job to do and Bellamy will be back soon. She sighs with false annoyance, "Fine. But after we win this, you owe me some kisses." That makes me laugh, "Sure."
We crawl back to our posts and pick up our guns. Bellamy comes back with bullets, doing a bad job of ignoring the small glances and smiles we share. When the Grounders come, I'll be ready. We're ready. I'll fight for her, she'll fight for me, and we'll both come out of this. Together.