I wrote this quite some time ago when I participated in a play of Romeo and Juliet, and what can I say, I have a thing for the bromances. So here's a drabble-ish tidbit of Mercutio/Romeo friendship.
Also: the little bit of sexism at the bottom is intended to be Mercutio's dated and biased opinion, not my own. I myself am female, so I invoke my right to take a few liberties with my own gender for the sake of literature.
Disclaimer: Actually, I happen not to own Romeo and Juliet. Shocker, eh?
The Willing Fool
Mercutio didn't believe in love at first sight.
He knew Romeo did, and the fact delighted him, as it armed him with seemingly endless ammunition with which to tease his friend. The part of him that wasn't a half-brained, shameless drunkard hated seeing Romeo despondent and downcast with the depression of a new love, but the more dominant aforementioned part laughed with glee and churned out insensitive jokes at an incredible rate.
He'd been best friends with Romeo since they were boys and strangers at a party full of stuffy grown-ups. He'd seen a quiet, melancholy blond boy leaning against a pillar, staring dreamily at a pretty little girl. Sensing a new target for entertainment, the young and mischievous Mercutio had leaned against the other side of the pillar, loudly and exaggeratedly imitating every longing expression, every sigh and gasp of admiration that the oblivious Romeo had made. It had taken a full minute of hilarity for Romeo to realize he was being mimicked, and he'd turned to Mercutio with such a look of adorable confusion that it was a wonder the number of girls who fell in love with him didn't rival the amount of girls he fell in love with. Then again, such a thing was obviously impossible.
Since then, Romeo and Mercutio had been inseparable, their bond strengthened by the addition of gentle, anxious Benvolio to their harmonious posse. They'd gotten drunk together (many times), discussed important matters together, or whatever counted as important to impetuous young gentlemen, and even mooned over ladies together (well, that was mostly Romeo, but Mercutio could at least pride himself on knowing about every single affair Romeo had ever had).
Mercutio liked to make fun of everything, and he was never wittier than when he was angered or afraid. He could laugh so easily at Romeo's expense because he cared. And he was frightened that one day, he wouldn't be able to make Romeo laugh off another heartsickness, and he would never see that familiar smile of sincere amicability again. He didn't like thinking of the turns Romeo's thoughts took when he was alone, and so he made every excuse to be at Romeo's side, always the willing fool. Benvolio helped, but he had an idea that Benvolio did to some extent believe in love at first sight, and that was no good.
"Where the devil should that Romeo be?" It was the inquiry that an irate Mercutio made to Benvolio the night after a party which would bring about tragedy in those three inexperienced lives, as well as many others. Mercutio wanted to find his Montague brother, and he wanted to shake him so hard that he coughed up his heart. Then Mercutio would knead it, tenderly but firmly, in his rough, sword-beaten hands until all the too-easily-given love inside it was battered out. Mercutio trusted himself with Romeo's heart, but he was not so generous with women; Mercutio would treat that heart as a man's, with strength and discipline and care, but a wily creature such as woman was apt to crush it into fine powder with a sharp heel.
Mercutio didn't believe in love at first sight, but Romeo did, and that fact terrified him.