AN: Sense? This makes none, but there is plot, and then there isn't. :/
I can't explain Benvolio's affinity towards mentioning the script alas, it is a love affair for which I have no control. Fourth wall, I apologize.
Disclaimer-I do not own the Hetalia characters or the play in which I have placed them in.
Romerica and Juliet
Act I, Scene 2
(Norway and Iceland enter the scene)-Narrators
Norway: Handle this, Iceland.
Iceland: Shut up. This scene deals with Juliet and her pending marriage to Count Paris, a relative of the princess. Her father, Lord Capulet wants what's best for her but in the end, only Juliet can decide that.
And Peter can't read.
Lord Capulet strolls into the grand parlor of his estate, walking side by side with another man. This man is taller than the lord, with soft platinum blonde hair and sweet violet eyes. He nods and smiles at the man of the house, enthused in his conversation.
"It's not me the princess has to worry about, it's that blasted Montague. He does shit just to piss me off."
Count Paris giggles softly. "Da, you both have honorable reputations and it is too bad you are enemies. Although your feud would cease to exist if you both became one with Russia…"
"What was that?"
"Have you considered my request?" Paris questions, adjusting the scarf around his neck. Capulet doesn't know why the man insists on wearing the thing, it's got to be hot around his neck, but he won't bother the issue further.
"There's no way in hell I'm letting you marry my daughter. She is too young for you and I don't fancy you much anyway." Capulet grumbles, wiping at his own neck. Damn that scarf, making him uncomfortable in his own home.
Paris gives Capulet a warm smile that reflects in his eyes. "I sense your concern. Girls younger than her often marry and become happy mothers."
"Well, those girls are nothing but little hussies and my baby will not be apart of that statistic. Besides, children who marry young grow up too fast." Capulet eyes that blasted scarf again, rubbing his neck.
"But your daughter is already ripe, da?"
Capulet stops in his tracks and glares at Paris. "Look, I'm having a party tonight, are you coming or what? You might find someone else who interests you and can finally leave my daughter alone."
Somewhere in the city…
"That jerk! Who does he think he is, ordering me around like that!" A little blonde boy named Peter stomps around, complaining about his task to the unknowing public. He fumbles with a piece of parchment in his hands. "Drats! I can't read this stupid list, maybe they can help me!"
Benvolio and Romeo stroll along, talking about nothing in particular. They're holding hands, courtesy of Benvolio, much to the dismay of Romeo. The main male brunette fought hard against his brother but his attempts proved futile. Now he's walking, holding hands with his brother and subject to the homoerotic daydreams of the women in the town.
"Ve~, cheer up Roma! It's no fun to be lovesick! I bet if you saw another pretty girl, you'll forget all about the old one!"
"Shut up." Romeo grumbles.
Benvolio's hazel eyes gloss over with wetness. "But Romeo~! I only want to help!'
"And that's the problem!" Romeo turns to the little boy now standing in front of him. "What the fuck do you want?"
Peter just smiles his best and rocks on his heels. "Hello good sirs! Do either of you know how to read?"
"Ve~, he's so cute! Isn't he cute Romeo?"
"Shut it." Romeo emphasizes the command with a smack to the back of his brother's head. "Why are you asking? Can't you read it?"
Peter blinks up at Romeo. "No one taught me how. Now are you going to read this for me or not?"
Romeo glares at the blonde boy in front of him. Holy shit, what is wrong with his eyebrows? "Obviously they didn't teach you manners either." He snatches the parchment and reads it to him. "-My uncle Capulet, his wife and daughters, my fair niece Rosaline and Livia, Signore Valenino and his cousin Tybalt, Lucia and the lovely Helena.' Who are all these people?"
Peter snatches the list back and tucks it under his hat. "Guests for my jerk master's party. My master's that jerk on a stick Capulet and if you aren't those Montague fellows, you can come too. Thanks for reading for me!" With that, Peter runs off. Romeo and Benvolio watch him go; still holding hands.
"Rosaline's going to be at the party, Romeo!"
Romeo slaps his brother on the head again. "I know that, I read the damn list."
"I know but look! There'll be lots of pretty girls there and you'll be able to compare Rosaline to other girls to see if you love her still~!"
The pair continue their walk, ignoring the leers from the women around them. Where are their husbands? "I already told you I don't love Rosaline, damn it! But that is a good plan, how did you come up with it?"
Benvolio flashes his brother a cheerful smile. " The script told me!"
"…Figures."
"So, are we going to the party Romeo? The script says we are!" Benvolio squeals, throwing his arms in the air. Unfortunately, he's still holding Romeo's hand, and he jostles his brother more than the brunette can appreciate. He snatches his hand back, causing his brother to whimper pathetically.
"Yes damn it, yes! It's not like I want to see Rosaline or anything."
Romeo takes the chance to glance around the area in the street where they stand. Benvolio is in the middle of a group of them, squealing and wildly gesturing towards Romeo. He can hear his idiot brother recounting his whole 'Rosaline' situation to the women and they are scribbling down every tidbit of information.
"Fuck!"
Romeo's face meet Romeo's palm.
