AN: Oh, Lordy, I forgot about this. ...Whoops. On the bright side, the semester's over, so I'll have a bit of time to write.

The fourth prompt was "on a date," and I chose to base it off of my college theater club's production of Romeo and Juliet that we staged last fall. Romeo was cast as a girl, so the title couple was a lesbian couple, although all of the other girls in male roles (myself as Mercutio, along with some friends of mine as Benvolio, Tybalt, the Prince, and the Montague and Capulet ensembles) played them as male. I had FAR too much fun playing Mercutio, by the by. All appearances are taken from those of their actors; since we had no one "playing" Rosaline, I used our director.

Disclaimer: THIS SHIT AIN'T MINE.

Her hair drew Romeo's eye first: not for its color (an unremarkable brown), but for its length. Rosaline Galinarion wore her hair cropped like a man's, the gentle waves brushing the sides of her throat but stopping shy of her rounded shoulders, and though Romeo knew that could have meant any number of things, her mind remained fixed on the disparate images of soft white skin, wide hips, generous curves, a man's hair and arrogant eyes- and insisted, over and over till she felt the refrain would drive her mad, here, at last, is a woman of my kind.

What a joyous thing 'twas, to espy a kindred spirit! Though the young men she held so dear as friends were more than suitably tolerant of her propersnity (or proclivity) for pursuing women, she was not made for masculine company, not constantly. In these hot days, when the fighters and banterers had worn themselves to quietude, she found herself longing for more...delicate companionship. Rosaline's companionship.

"Mio cuore, you gaze as though your spirit took the form of Leander, fixing all hope upon a point too far beyond hellish waves t'attain without peril." Mercutio's lilting voice wound itself firmly about her ear as his hands came to rest on her shoulders; despite herself, Romeo jumped. She had thought him by the fountain still, carousing as was his wont. "Whatever else she be, this nymph that hath ensnared your eye, let her at least be my equal or better in height. I will not have the bow-boy's butt-shaft pin you so low to th' ground that love passes you by to leave you trampled beneath its trailing, pitiless wings."

"Talk sense, I prithee," she retorted, habitual cheerfulness dimming as the passing Rosaline threw a contemptuous glance their way.

"What amusement ever came of sense?" But surely Mercutio, too, must have sensed her lady's coollness, for his hands on her shoulders tightened; she felt the pique of his interest like a knife against her neck. "Is it she, then? Your Hero?"

"Ay," she sighed. She could only pray she sounded not so dreamy as she felt. Wondered briefly why it had to have been Mercutio, ever the cynic, to find her in the throes of longing when she had given him such great fodder for mockery. "Methinks she is the fairest creature yet to grace my eye-"

"So say you of them all-"

"Do you not think so?"

The weight of his skepticism lay heavily across her back, like some living thing breathing censure with its sighs. "Nay, lass, I have seen the cold and distant stars look more favorably upon man than your lady fair, stars who winked back not with daggers of ice but with a firm and tender regard." Silence. Something she knew (or thought she knew) he could not abide. "Woo her, then, an you desire it so." His voice dropped to a whisper, bitter and grim. "If she prove cruel, lay not the blame on me."

XXX

Rosaline had stopped at the cloth merchant's stall, resolutely ignoring the plump woman's ramblings as she ran her fingers over bolts of velvet, linen, wool. Romeo quickly ran her tongue over dry lips, trying to muster up the courage to approach her. To place a hand over hers, charm her with a jest or a smile. Lead her to the fountain, while the daylight hours away in conversation, take her by the hand and hair beneath the setting sun's fire, let lips do what hands do and join- nay. Enough. What use was dreaming when the lady herself stood there, primed for the fulfilment of desire?

"Have your feet grown roots, that you stand by so dizzy-eyed? Or is such oddity a custom of yours?"

It was a strong voice, and clear, the sort that belonged upon a stage. The step of Romeo's heart quickened immediately, yearning to beat time to the melody of that wondrous voice. "Only when mine eyes light upon beauty such as yours, lady, will my feet hold fast to please them."

"Clever words," she said, a small smile curling over her lips. "And you speak them without fear? To one of your own sex? God will not look kindly upon such a transgression."

"Let me burn, then!" Romeo threw her arms wide, trying desperately to imitate Mercutio's expansive physicality, his wide, self-effacing grin that charmed man and maid alike. "I am in torment already, lady, to be within arms' length of a kinder divinity. For eyes to see what hands may not hold is a Hell unto itself."

Rosaline laughed, equal parts startled and pleased. "And by whose decree has the holding of hands been forbidden? Our prince decries war, not love. You have proven already your lack of regard for public censure and Hellfire both. Shall you deny so mean a desire on so much proof?"

"I think not-"

"Then be forward, I pray; your heart obviously wills it so. I would see it done."

I quoted the "bow-boy's butt-shaft" line because it was cut from our production; a lot of the weirder banter between Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio was, much to my disappointment (I really wanted to rant about geese and Rosaline's flabby thighs, dammit).

Um...so, yeah, I left this untouched for...several months. And yes, the prompt was "on a date," and I got lazy and decided to make it "the leadup to a date." I take liberties. Don't judge.