A NOTE:
This is a slashfic, which, for those of you who don't know, deals with male/male relationships. If this kind of thing bothers you, don't read.
The idea for this piece came to me while I was watching a creative version of Romeo and Juliet at a local theater. In it, Mercutio fell to pieces after reciting his "Queen Mab" speech, and Romeo was very cuddly in the act of calming him down. Naturally, this struck something in me and I wrote this. Descriptions are of the characters as portrayed by the actors I saw.
Oh, and one more thing: This is my first attempt at using Shakespearean language of my own imagination. So please review, please be honest, but please be open-minded!
Through Lover's Brains
"This is that very Mab that plaits the manes of horses in the night," rang out Mercutio's voice through the crowd of partygoers who stared uneasily at him. Romeo and Benvolio exchanged worried glances. The young noble was fiery enough when he was unprovoked; on one of his tirades, few could subdue him. His cloak whirled around him as he paced dramatically, and the revelers stood back, alarmed.
"Wilt thou not calm him?" whispered Benvolio furiously. "Or shall we be cast out of this procession, charged with the sin of association with a madman?"
Romeo hesitated, but another quick glance at the ranting Mercutio persuaded him. He burst through the crowd, crying out, "Peace, Mercutio!"
His friend spun around sharply, and Romeo saw liquid rage in his bright eyes. He slung an arm around Mercutio's shoulder and walked him back to a more secluded area, repeating "peace" softly. He helped the shaking young man lean against a wall. "Thou talk'st of nothing," he assured him, rubbing his shoulders gently. Mercutio shrugged, and Romeo was startled to see a tear fall from his eye. A wry smile drifted across his face, and he looked for a moment like his usual mischievous self.
"True," he said, voice rasping with new tears, "I talk of dreams, which are the children of an idle brain..." He drifted off, resting his head on the wall. He babbled lowly on about the nonsense that was a dreaming mind, and Romeo watched him, not listening. He continued rubbing the lean shoulders of his friend, looking over his shaking body. Mercutio's blond hair fell across his face, and he reached a slender arm up to brush the tresses and tears away. Romeo grasped Mercutio's hand, rubbing his knuckles with his own thumb.
"Good Mercutio," he began softly, "Wherefore dost thou mourn?"
The nobleman sighed. "Nay, my friend, I share not my woes with thee."
Romeo grinned. "'Tis an uncouth thing, hoarding that which hath been requested of you." When Mercutio did nothing but stare forward and wipe away a few more tears, Romeo frowned. "Mercutio," he repeated softly, staring into his friend's eyes.
Mercutio hesitantly reached a hand out to brush across Romeo's cheek. The younger boy flinched, but not from disgust. "Thy hands are nigh but bone and ice," he said. "Whither is that life-giving flame that warmed them ere tonight?"
"Long gone." Mercutio looked away. "'Twould take something marvelous strong to bring it back."
Romeo chuckled with the irony of it. Mercutio, his best friend, who never let anyone see him with any show of unhappiness (other than anger, of course, which most saw plenty of). Mercutio, who teased him for his infatuations and obsessions, but kept his thoughts about those he loved to himself. Clever Mercutio. Witty Mercutio. And now, nothing but sorrowful Mercutio. Though he'd never given it a second thought, it hurt him now seeing his friend like this. He liked the way the young man looked when some new word game had crossed his mind, or a space for a joke, or, even better, an opportunity for a good fight. The look was the same for all of them: green eyes slits of anticipation, wrinkles forming at the edges of eye and mouth. Romeo felt an odd stirring within him. This surely wasn't right—but suddenly, he could hardly remember the name of the girl he'd supposedly loved.
"I have nothing marvelous strong," he said slowly, feeling his face go red, "But the life upon my breath may warm thee." He pressed his lips to Mercutio's hands, breathing slowly into them. He felt his friend shiver with the warmth and tenderness, and he smiled into the young man's knuckles.
Mercutio pulled away, and Romeo started. "Have I—"
"Nay," breathed Mercutio. "But my hands are warm now. Wouldst thou, with thy reviving mouth, bring life to my deadened lips?"
Romeo stared at him, shocked that Mercutio would say such a thing. The taller boy blushed, and raked his hands through his hair. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Romeo spoke first. "And this is thy desire?"
"Aye," mumbled Mercutio. "Forgive me, dear Romeo, but too many a long day hath it been that I suffered without words."
The Montague felt his face go redder than before, but it was a flush of pleasure rather than shame. "Thy desire is my command," he said softly, and stood on his toes to brush his lips against Mercutio's. When he pulled away, he saw his friend smiling. "Art thou now more alive?" he asked coyly.
"Not quite enough," muttered Mercutio. He cupped Romeo's neck and pulled him in again for another kiss, playing with the young Montague's brown curls. Romeo twined his hands into Mercutio's hair, smiling into his mouth. This was what he'd been missing.
He felt Mercutio's tongue press against his lips, requesting entrance, which he willingly gave. Their tongues battled for dominance in the kiss, and when they finally broke for air, neither wanted to do anything but hold the other. Romeo grinned as he pressed his head into Mercutio's shoulder, sighing with happiness. "Perhaps now I have given thee life enough?"
Mercutio nodded. "Perhaps," he allowed. "But stay, for I fear I shall die again without constant service."
"Not upon my guard," vowed Romeo, kissing Mercutio's cheek. "Thou shalt never leave my sight."
Mercutio grinned. "Queen Mab hath seen us both tonight."