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This is a bit old, but it's not too cringe-inducing, and it fits the community, so after renee6612 reminded me of it, I decided to present it as evidence that I can write. Sort of. :D And also because Romeo and Mercutio are practically canon, yo, and I'm trying to write a bloody Romeo and Juliet essay at the moment.
All the World's a Stage
Disclaimer: Shakespeare's. I'm just playin'. Although it's probably public domain by now.
"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages." As You Like It - William Shakespeare
Romeo still remembered, sometimes.
1. A fourteen-year-old boy, running headlong through the streets, in the utterly obnoxious way that only fourteen-year-old boys can. Slamming into a warm, solid form that grasped him by the back of the neck and kept him upright. "What have we here?" Romeo registered blonde hair and blue eyes.
Benvolio arrived, skidding to a halt, wide dark eyes taking it in. "My name's Romeo." Romeo drew himself away from the warm hand. "Montague's son. And Benvolio, also of the Montagues."
One of the men with the blonde man made an impatient noise. "They're younglings, Mercutio. Leave them be. Not even you can gain much amusement here."
The blonde man shook his head, not turning around, and bowed gracefully to Romeo and Benvolio. "Mercutio. Cousin of the Prince. A pleasure to meet you, young Montagues. Where are you off to, so fast?"
Romeo shrugged. Mercutio made him feel too young, which wasn't fair, because he was an adult now, old enough to get married. "Just running."
"I'd better allow you the leisure of continuing, then." Mercutio was smiling, but he wasn't laughing at Romeo, just laughing. "I hope to see you again soon, young Montagues."
Romeo seized on the chance to prove that he was as courtly as the strange, whimsical man. His bow was perfect, flawless, and Mercutio's mouth quirked with appreciation. "It was a pleasure, sir."
Benvolio, naturally polite, agreed. "And on my part."
"Mine too." Mercutio saluted lazily over his shoulder as he walked away.
2. "This is a sad business, this matter between your houses." Romeo pried open one eyelid.
"Mercutio, it's a day in which mad dogs would go madder, not a day to debate fierce feuds." Mercutio frowned. He was in one of those positions he managed to twine himself into where he looked as though he couldn't possibly be comfortable, belly on one branch, head and crossed arms on the other. But, as always, his face was blissful in the sun.
"Still, 'tis a pity. And with my coz so worried. He foresees brawling in the streets."
"It's an old grievance, Mercutio. Why should it suddenly break to new violence?"
Mercutio shrugged. "A new generation, mayhap? Tybalt of the Capels - he would be glad for any brawl you could offer. Steer clear of that one, Montague."
"I have been told. Now there's a mad dog." Mercutio laughed.
"And getting madder by the day."
3. "Touch me... oh God right there." Romeo arched his back impossibly, feeling himself come off the bed. Mercutio laughed, fingers still curled around his prick.
"And what else? What else shall I do, friend Romeo?"
"My chest... my-" Romeo broke off into a moan. Mercutio was taking him at his word. A quick swipe of pink tongue against pale fingertips and there was a hand, a wet hand, pulling at his nipples. Romeo moaned low, like the whine of a dog. "Kiss..." Mercutio reached up and kissed him, still gently fondling the nipple. His hand was curled around Romeo's prick, but lightly, and it wasn't moving. Romeo wriggled, trying to get Mercutio to do something.
"It's different from women, aye?"
Romeo just panted.
4. Romeo laughed when Mercutio's head appeared in the window of his room. "How now?" he asked, letting the man in. Mercutio landed nimbly on his feet and caught Romeo for a quick kiss, smelling of apples and horses. "Where have you been gadding?"
"Here and there. And you? I've not seen you since... morning. Too long, lovely."
"Sweet words will get you nowhere. I'm too tired."
"You think I came just to lie with you?" Mercutio shook his head. "Just to see you, dearling. Were you in the brawl?"
"No. Were you?"
Mercutio shrugged. "I predicted this. Civil discord. I'll wager that brawl to be the first of a few."
Romeo shuddered suddenly. "Not pleasant bedchamber talk, my headstrong. Would you care to sleep?"
"Aye." Romeo loved the nights when Mercutio stayed, wrapped around him like a piece of twine, breathing evenly into his ear or onto his neck or his chest.
5. "It's got to stop."
"What?" Mercutio's face was sullen. Romeo knew that Mercutio knew what he was talking about.
"The herbs, headstrong. You're not the same as you used to be."
"They bring sweet dreams."
"They bring madness."
"The whole city's in madness. What will a few herbs hurt?"
"Are you trying... what are you trying to hide?"
"Nothing. You should try them. Pleasant dreams, dreams where we two are alone..." Romeo left.
6. "No more." Mercutio didn't even look surprised.
"You've met a woman."
"No." Romeo was honestly taken aback. "Not while I loved you. But I loved someone else, someone who didn't want to crawl into a pipe and stay there."
"No women?" There was a brief flash in Mercutio's eyes, as though he was suddenly realising and regretting something. "I can stop the-"
Romeo held up a hand. "Why now, when not before? No more, Mercutio."
"We'll see each other, though." It wasn't a question.
"Aye. Still friends." The last kiss was the sweetest, Romeo's hands lightly gripping Mercutio's wrists, nothing touching except mouths and hands. The smell of apples.
7. "What, art thou hurt?" Hurt? Mercutio? Romeo blinked, but relaxed when he heard the next words.
"Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough. Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon." Romeo moved towards him, laughing.
"Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much."
"No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man." Romeo was still laughing, along with the other Montagues. The torrent of bad puns was more than enough to put Romeo's mind at ease. But then the tone changed. "I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic!" His voice dropped, became plaintive. "Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm."
"I thought all for the best." Romeo's heart was suddenly pounding again. Mercutio was... Mercutio was serious. He was hurt, and it was Romeo's fault. Oh God, my headstrong. He made an aborted move towards Mercutio, but the blonde man shook his head. Romeo could tell what he meant. They'd been so careful, for so long, and it wasn't even as if he loved the man anymore. He was married.
"Help me into some house, Benvolio, or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! They have made worms' meat of me: I have it, and soundly too: your houses!" He was serious, Romeo knew. Mercutio had always hated the feud, no matter how joyfully he flung himself into the fray. And now... It's not mortal. It can't be mortal. Not Mercutio. Not the most alive person Romeo knew, the original candle-teacher.
Romeo turned to the other Montagues. "This gentleman, the prince's near ally, my very friend, hath got his mortal hurt in my behalf; my reputation stain'd with Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, thy beauty hath made me effeminate and in my temper soften'd valour's steel!" I betrayed you with her twice, and now you're d- hurt. Hurt.
But it was clear when Benvolio returned, even before he spoke. "O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, which too untimely here did scorn the earth."
Romeo reeled. My headstrong. Gone, like that. Because I let Juliet make me weak. My fault. My - Tybalt's fault. "This day's black fate on more days doth depend; this but begins the woe, others must end." And he had only one person in mind.
"Here comes the furious Tybalt back again." Benvolio was as shocked as him, Romeo could tell. So fast! Mercutio had been standing there a moment ago, smelling of… apples. He roared the name mentally. Tybalt!
"Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, and fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!" My headstrong. Oh my God. My headstrong.
All the World's a Stage
Disclaimer: Shakespeare's. I'm just playin'. Although it's probably public domain by now.
"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages." As You Like It - William Shakespeare
Romeo still remembered, sometimes.
1. A fourteen-year-old boy, running headlong through the streets, in the utterly obnoxious way that only fourteen-year-old boys can. Slamming into a warm, solid form that grasped him by the back of the neck and kept him upright. "What have we here?" Romeo registered blonde hair and blue eyes.
Benvolio arrived, skidding to a halt, wide dark eyes taking it in. "My name's Romeo." Romeo drew himself away from the warm hand. "Montague's son. And Benvolio, also of the Montagues."
One of the men with the blonde man made an impatient noise. "They're younglings, Mercutio. Leave them be. Not even you can gain much amusement here."
The blonde man shook his head, not turning around, and bowed gracefully to Romeo and Benvolio. "Mercutio. Cousin of the Prince. A pleasure to meet you, young Montagues. Where are you off to, so fast?"
Romeo shrugged. Mercutio made him feel too young, which wasn't fair, because he was an adult now, old enough to get married. "Just running."
"I'd better allow you the leisure of continuing, then." Mercutio was smiling, but he wasn't laughing at Romeo, just laughing. "I hope to see you again soon, young Montagues."
Romeo seized on the chance to prove that he was as courtly as the strange, whimsical man. His bow was perfect, flawless, and Mercutio's mouth quirked with appreciation. "It was a pleasure, sir."
Benvolio, naturally polite, agreed. "And on my part."
"Mine too." Mercutio saluted lazily over his shoulder as he walked away.
2. "This is a sad business, this matter between your houses." Romeo pried open one eyelid.
"Mercutio, it's a day in which mad dogs would go madder, not a day to debate fierce feuds." Mercutio frowned. He was in one of those positions he managed to twine himself into where he looked as though he couldn't possibly be comfortable, belly on one branch, head and crossed arms on the other. But, as always, his face was blissful in the sun.
"Still, 'tis a pity. And with my coz so worried. He foresees brawling in the streets."
"It's an old grievance, Mercutio. Why should it suddenly break to new violence?"
Mercutio shrugged. "A new generation, mayhap? Tybalt of the Capels - he would be glad for any brawl you could offer. Steer clear of that one, Montague."
"I have been told. Now there's a mad dog." Mercutio laughed.
"And getting madder by the day."
3. "Touch me... oh God right there." Romeo arched his back impossibly, feeling himself come off the bed. Mercutio laughed, fingers still curled around his prick.
"And what else? What else shall I do, friend Romeo?"
"My chest... my-" Romeo broke off into a moan. Mercutio was taking him at his word. A quick swipe of pink tongue against pale fingertips and there was a hand, a wet hand, pulling at his nipples. Romeo moaned low, like the whine of a dog. "Kiss..." Mercutio reached up and kissed him, still gently fondling the nipple. His hand was curled around Romeo's prick, but lightly, and it wasn't moving. Romeo wriggled, trying to get Mercutio to do something.
"It's different from women, aye?"
Romeo just panted.
4. Romeo laughed when Mercutio's head appeared in the window of his room. "How now?" he asked, letting the man in. Mercutio landed nimbly on his feet and caught Romeo for a quick kiss, smelling of apples and horses. "Where have you been gadding?"
"Here and there. And you? I've not seen you since... morning. Too long, lovely."
"Sweet words will get you nowhere. I'm too tired."
"You think I came just to lie with you?" Mercutio shook his head. "Just to see you, dearling. Were you in the brawl?"
"No. Were you?"
Mercutio shrugged. "I predicted this. Civil discord. I'll wager that brawl to be the first of a few."
Romeo shuddered suddenly. "Not pleasant bedchamber talk, my headstrong. Would you care to sleep?"
"Aye." Romeo loved the nights when Mercutio stayed, wrapped around him like a piece of twine, breathing evenly into his ear or onto his neck or his chest.
5. "It's got to stop."
"What?" Mercutio's face was sullen. Romeo knew that Mercutio knew what he was talking about.
"The herbs, headstrong. You're not the same as you used to be."
"They bring sweet dreams."
"They bring madness."
"The whole city's in madness. What will a few herbs hurt?"
"Are you trying... what are you trying to hide?"
"Nothing. You should try them. Pleasant dreams, dreams where we two are alone..." Romeo left.
6. "No more." Mercutio didn't even look surprised.
"You've met a woman."
"No." Romeo was honestly taken aback. "Not while I loved you. But I loved someone else, someone who didn't want to crawl into a pipe and stay there."
"No women?" There was a brief flash in Mercutio's eyes, as though he was suddenly realising and regretting something. "I can stop the-"
Romeo held up a hand. "Why now, when not before? No more, Mercutio."
"We'll see each other, though." It wasn't a question.
"Aye. Still friends." The last kiss was the sweetest, Romeo's hands lightly gripping Mercutio's wrists, nothing touching except mouths and hands. The smell of apples.
7. "What, art thou hurt?" Hurt? Mercutio? Romeo blinked, but relaxed when he heard the next words.
"Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough. Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon." Romeo moved towards him, laughing.
"Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much."
"No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door; but 'tis enough, 'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man." Romeo was still laughing, along with the other Montagues. The torrent of bad puns was more than enough to put Romeo's mind at ease. But then the tone changed. "I am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o' both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of arithmetic!" His voice dropped, became plaintive. "Why the devil came you between us? I was hurt under your arm."
"I thought all for the best." Romeo's heart was suddenly pounding again. Mercutio was... Mercutio was serious. He was hurt, and it was Romeo's fault. Oh God, my headstrong. He made an aborted move towards Mercutio, but the blonde man shook his head. Romeo could tell what he meant. They'd been so careful, for so long, and it wasn't even as if he loved the man anymore. He was married.
"Help me into some house, Benvolio, or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses! They have made worms' meat of me: I have it, and soundly too: your houses!" He was serious, Romeo knew. Mercutio had always hated the feud, no matter how joyfully he flung himself into the fray. And now... It's not mortal. It can't be mortal. Not Mercutio. Not the most alive person Romeo knew, the original candle-teacher.
Romeo turned to the other Montagues. "This gentleman, the prince's near ally, my very friend, hath got his mortal hurt in my behalf; my reputation stain'd with Tybalt's slander,--Tybalt, that an hour hath been my kinsman! O sweet Juliet, thy beauty hath made me effeminate and in my temper soften'd valour's steel!" I betrayed you with her twice, and now you're d- hurt. Hurt.
But it was clear when Benvolio returned, even before he spoke. "O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio's dead! That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds, which too untimely here did scorn the earth."
Romeo reeled. My headstrong. Gone, like that. Because I let Juliet make me weak. My fault. My - Tybalt's fault. "This day's black fate on more days doth depend; this but begins the woe, others must end." And he had only one person in mind.
"Here comes the furious Tybalt back again." Benvolio was as shocked as him, Romeo could tell. So fast! Mercutio had been standing there a moment ago, smelling of… apples. He roared the name mentally. Tybalt!
"Alive, in triumph! and Mercutio slain! Away to heaven, respective lenity, and fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!" My headstrong. Oh my God. My headstrong.