Chapter Text
The mid April breeze was cool and the sky was gray when Mercutio walked out of Faerie Flowers to bring the promotional inside while he was closing up the shop. His work, of course, wasn’t done. He had far too many arrangements for this upcoming party to consider himself done for the day, despite the sweeping being done, the flowers freshly changed water, and the till counted.
He set the sign down and turned a few lights off in the front just as the clouds broke and the downpour began. He turned to the fridge sitting in the corner with snacks, drinks, and chocolate, feeling around the back for the switch that turned off the lights before examining some of the flowers for the arrangements he was working on at the counter. It had been a slow day, and Romeo had disappeared early to go help prepare for Juliet’s birthday party.
Dammit, now he was going to be wet when he got to the party. He was looking forward to the partying and the dancing and the drinking, but not showing up dripping. Ultimately, he could use this as an excuse to keep working-
The bell jingled at the front; evidently, Mercutio had forgotten to lock the door like an idiot. He turned over his shoulder, “Oh, sorry we’re not open-” and was cut off by an absurdly handsome man with a sharp jaw and intense dark eyes standing in his shop, hair dripping from the downpour outside. He was also absolutely going to leave water spots on the floor that Mercutio had just cleaned, but he didn’t mind too much.
“Your sign says open.” The man tilted his head back in a gesture to the door.
Mercutio’s eyes followed him and found that indeed, he’d forgotten to flip the sign. Well, it was a sale… he supposed it wouldn't hurt to make just a little money before he left. “Well damn, that’s a good point. Go ahead and pick out what you want.” Mercutio walked back to the register and booted up the POS system quickly. Sneaking a glance or two at the soaking wet man. His hair was drying a little, probably because he was dripping water all over the floor but never mind that. He picked up a bouquet of red roses, looking lost, and Mercutio noticed a few tattoos on his fingers. Too far away to be clear, but fitting on his thick fingers.
“So, what’s the occasion?” Mercutio finally broke the silence as he watched the stranger sniff the roses tentatively.
“Cousin’s birthday is today.” The man responded as he held up the roses, the first flowers he’d picked. “How much?”
Mercutio leaned against the counter a little, over the arrangements he’d been working on of pale pink and blue buds for a baby shower. “Red roses are a little romantic, don’t you think? Or am I reading the situation wrong-”
“No!” The man said insistently and quickly set the flowers down, wiping his hands on his jeans like he wanted to be rid of the thought. “No. What would you suggest then?”
Mercutio felt his lips quirk up as he stifled a laugh. “Something for a cousin, okay, how about if we want roses, we could go for yellow? Far less romantic, and better for familial relationships, or maybe daisies if you want something a little less formal.” Mercutio walked over, grabbed a small bouquet, and offered it to the man.
The man took them and pulled a beaten-up wallet out of the pocket of his leather jacket, handing Mercutio a couple of bills. “Need more?” He looked ready to leave, and quickly.
“This is more than enough-”
“Keep it. The extra.” The man quickly darted back out into the downpour, yellow roses tucked safely under the visor of his jacket, and he burst into a run quickly up the road. Mercutio had royally fucked that- why had he asked if he was going to sleep with his cousin? God, where was his head when his mouth wanted to talk to handsome guys? He chewed on his lip gently, trying to stifle a groan as he turned the closed sign around and quickly locked the door before turning back to the bouquets, trying to shove the man out of his mind. It was fine; he’d probably never see him again anyway unless he bought flowers again, and after that interaction, he suspected he’d never come to Faerie Flowers ever again for that.
“Back to you.” He said aloud, trying to redirect his focus to his flowers, when his phone immediately started buzzing on the table, and he groaned. He could see the B from across the room. He walked over and hit the answer button, putting the man on speaker. “Benny.”
“You know that Juliet’s birthday party starts in a few minutes, right?” There was a warning tone to his voice already.
“Yes?” Mercutio adjusted the placement of a leaf in the arrangement quickly.
“And you know you’re not here, right?”
“I’m on my way.”
“No, you’re not, don't try that shit with me, I can tell you’re not in a car.”
“Okay, fine, but I just made a pretty penny on a dude who came in right after close-”
“I don’t fucking care, Mercutio, just put the cash in the till, get your ass over here!” The line went dead quickly.
Mercutio sighed and looked at the arrangements sitting delicately on the table. “Sorry, beautiful, you’re getting finished tomorrow, I guess.” He picked up the flowers and quickly moved them off the counter and to their shelf, where he left works in progress. Closing down the till and untying his apron. He hung it on the hooks by the door and grabbed an umbrella from the office, running out to his car.
By the time Mercutio had arrived at the party, with the traffic from the rain, it was in full swing, and he had to park halfway up the street from her and Romeo’s gigantic mansion. Well, maybe it wasn’t a mansion, but it was to him. He opened the umbrella quickly and grabbed the present, a nice copy of Rebecca, contained underneath shiny golden paper, before running up the way toward the house.
“Finally,” A freckled ginger stood at the doorway in a loose shirt and jeans, strong arms crossed over his chest. “Juliet was asking for you about half an hour ago. Where were you?”
“Caught in traffic, have you been waiting for me out here?” Mercutio pulled his locs back into a bun, already feeling the heat radiating from inside the house before he’d even set foot inside, handing Benvolio the gift as he shook his umbrella out.
Benvolio snorted, “I see you enough at home, I’m not waiting for you here.” Still, he held his phone up with the location app they both had downloaded on his phone.
“You’re an insufferable roommate, and I don’t want to renew our lease next year if you’re going to talk to me like that.” Mercutio took a few steps inside after taking the present back. Pitbull was playing loud enough for him to feel the bass deep in his chest. It reminded him of the early days of friendship, looking at the hall swarmed with people. “Where’s Julie?” Mercutio turned back to look at Benvolio.
“I don’t know anymore, last saw her maybe fifteen minutes ago. Go ask Romeo- Gregory! Where’s your girlfriend? I want to meet her!” Benvolio called out, giving Mercutio one more scathing look before he jogged through people to where the man must have been. Mercutio glanced around, but didn’t see the man.
He traveled further into the party, pushing past people, and set his gift for Juliet on the table gently atop a large pile of others. This was a true Capulet party, full of people, revelry, and ultimately more strangers than friends. Most of these people, he was sure, Juliet barely knew, maybe some friends of the family. He thought he spied the back of a curly head that was Rosaline, but he wasn’t sure. Mercutio’s attention was quickly stolen from Capulets or otherwise as he heard loud whooping coming from the kitchen. He already knew who he would find before walking in.
This might have been a Capulet party, but the Montagues were tight-knit, following each other like dogs chasing their own tails. And the Montagues had currently found their group in the kitchen, surrounded by bottles of shitty beer, a keg or two, and some nicer bottles for those who were more civilized. Someone had seemingly overridden the speaker in the kitchen, drowning out Pitbull with the familiar Montague anthem.
…Stars collide, worlds divide with a pretty piece of flesh…
And in the middle of it all, between the bottles and people and chaos, was Romeo Montague himself. He was holding a red Solo cup in his free hand, his other arm slung around Sampson, a man with badly dyed pink hair and one permanent black eye at all times. Romeo was the eye of the Montague’s hurricane, with his hair flopping playfully onto his forehead and his mischievous smile gracing his face.
And then he looked at Mercutio, and everything went quiet as a slow, easy smile spread across his face, and the room almost seemed to go blank. It was all shadowed by Romeo, looking at him, smiling at him, recognizing that he was there. And then he shook it off gently as Romeo broke from Sampson to come talk to him. “Escalus!” He shouted over the music. Mercutio’s mind almost broke in two as Romeo leaned in, feeling his hot breath on his cheek as he shouted in his ear. “How’s the party?”
“Just got here!” Mercutio stared at his eyes for longer than he should, a striking blue, like the color of the sky.
“Well then, you, my friend, are nowhere near as drunk as you should be!” Romeo grinned as he nodded to Sampson. “A drink for Mercutio!” Sampson quickly turned and grabbed a solo cup from the pile on the counter. “Did the shop treat you well after I had to go? Sorry about that, by the way, I should have been able to stay, but we had an issue with the catering-”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s not a problem. You’d have done the same for me.” Mercutio was too focused on taking his face while he was so close. What were they talking about? Who had he been looking for? His eyes trailed down from his eyes to his plush lips, his strong jawline. And he smelled so-
A drink was being thrust into his hands, and it was blue. Electric blue. “What is this?”
He looked up at Sampson questioningly. Who just shrugged. “Could be Gatorate, could be rat poison, don’t care if it tastes good.” Sampson tipped his head back and seemingly chugged whatever this was. Mercutio was less eager. “Did you see Rosaline? Looks pretty good these days, doesn’t she?” Sampson grinned at Mercutio, “You should try talking to her.”
“I’ll see if I can find her.” He felt like there was a haze clouding his head; he only wanted to look at Romeo, practically drink him in. What had he been-
“Great party for Julie, right?” Romeo smiled. “I mean, invited her whole family and everything, even… Tybalt.” His smile dimmed a few watts briefly before Mercutio blinked, and it was seemingly gone. “Think he’s leaving early though, too bad, pretty sure she’s in the library with him.”
Juliet. He’d been looking for Juliet before he’d been a moth drawn to Romeo’s flame. Just then, a loud crash came from another room, and Romeo’s arm snaked away. “I should go check that out. Enjoy the party, Escalus.”
Mercutio nodded as he watched Romeo walk away, eyes trailing over his back before looking away. Juliet was in the library, a hulking section of their house, honestly. It shouldn’t be too hard to find her unless she didn’t want to be found. She usually enjoyed these parties, but they’d also spent their fair share hiding between the stacks with a bottle of something cheap and fruity. He looked at Sampson, “You know, I think you should go talk to Rosaline, bet she’d enjoy that.”
“You think so?” Sampson’s eyes glinted in the low lighting of the room.
Mercutio thought, in fact, that Rosaline wouldn’t want to hear from anyone from the Montague family, but if Sampson wanted to try, Mercutio wouldn’t stand in his way. “Yeah, sure.”
The man followed closely behind Romeo after that, calling after him to wait up, and Mercutio’s attention turned. Juliet was in the library, alright, but it wasn't a spot to find her. He left the kitchen, still holding whatever jungle juice Sampson had handed him. He took a small sip and screwed up his nose before setting it down on an end table, making a beeline for the library through the throngs of people. The first-floor entrance was being blocked by a few people so drunk they were hardly upright, and he decided to try the second floor.
As he reached the second floor, the music and population of the house died down. Twisting down familiar turns of Romeo and Juliet’s positively massive house, he finally reached the second-floor entrance, opening it quietly and closing it behind him. He could hear the sound of conversation below on the first floor of the library, with no attempt to be quiet.
“I wish you’d come around more. I miss you. I want you to continue being a part of my life without me having to sacrifice this. I mean, look at this, Tybalt, he threw me an entire party, he invited you.” Came the clear, feminine voice of Juliet below.
“Against his own will, he only invited me here because of you. I’m glad he makes you so happy, but I’ve never been like you.” A deeper, more intense voice replied.
This presumably was Tybalt. Mercutio had never met Tybalt personally, but he knew that within the Montague and Capulet families, he was infamous. He knew the reputation: a cold-hearted killer, no remorse, hell-bent on revenge. Until one day, he’d disappeared.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Juliet asked, defensiveness rising in her tone.
The only one who had ever told Mercutio any differently was Juliet, but the way she spoke of him inclined him to at least partially believe her. She’d said he was misunderstood; he had always been kind to her, loving. He was devoted to his family and taking care of his own.
“Forgiving.”
The stacks in this section were full of thick, ancient-looking volumes, which was nice if you wanted to hide, but less so if you wanted to catch a glimpse of the great Tybalt Capulet. Who was either the kindest or the most evil man you could ever meet. He’d rather discern it for himself, but the books were sort of blocking him at the moment. Mercutio continued toward the staircase as quietly as he could.
“You’re plenty forgiving, you just refuse to forgive your mortal enemy.”
“When have you-” The voice grew heated, and then there was a sigh so heavy it was audible, or maybe it was that it managed to be so quiet in here you could practically hear a pin drop. Mercutio was trying very hard to stay quiet. “Look, I’m not going to forgive your prick of a boyfriend-”
“Juliet! Are you in here!” Mercutio finally shouted into the room; he wasn’t going to listen to someone speak ill of Romeo for any longer, bloodthirst be damned.
“Mercutio!” A delighted shout from downstairs, he could practically picture Juliet’s pale face and the way it lit up when she was surprised. “I was worried when you weren’t here.”
“Sorry, my love,” Mercutio headed toward the stairs. “I was closing up, and I had a man track mud all over my-” Mercutio reached the bottom, and in the cozy center of the room sat Juliet and the exact man who’d been in his store after hours. This was Tybalt Capulet. He felt himself stop in his tracks as he stared at the dark-eyed man. “You.”
Tybalt’s face screwed up a little as he looked at him, eyes widening in recognition after a moment. “Fuck you’re the flower shop owner.”
Juliet looked between the two of them, confused, plush red lips parted slightly. “Have you two met?”
Mercutio gestured to the bouquet of yellow roses sitting on the coffee table next to a small stack of books, which all looked about as new as the ancient tomes he’d been sneaking behind earlier. “We met this afternoon, and he made me late.” He glanced up to see an unamused face. “Well, not exactly. I was also perhaps caught up in some shower flowers.” His attention shifted to Tybalt. “We weren’t exactly introduced, though.” He smiled a little, which got no response, other than his arms being crossed over his broad chest.
Asshole.
“Well, Tybalt, this is Mercutio Escalus. A good friend of mine.” Juliet said, picking up the flowers again, holding them in her arms. “Mercutio, this is Tybalt, my cousin.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you from Juliet.” Mercutio held a hand out to the man, which was given a begrudging handshake. Tybalt’s hand felt like a dead weight. “All bad things, don’t worry, your reputation is intact.” Mercutio tried again to no avail; the man didn’t crack a single smile. It seemed as though the flustered man in the flower shop wasn’t nearly as expressive in real life.
“He’s kidding. I speak very highly of you. Always.” Juliet crossed the room and gave Mercutio a quick kiss on the cheek in greeting. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“Absolutely, but I had to come see the birthday girl. Romeo had better be showering you with as many gifts as you deserve.” Mercutio’s voice lowered like it was a secret between the two of them, even though it was a quiet room of three. “If not, I left you a little gift in your pile.”
“I should get going.” It seemingly came out of nowhere, a harsh, awkward sound in the middle of the sweetness of Juliet. Tybalt’s face was confusing, blank, yet Mercutio could still read the discomfort in his voice, in the way he tipped his head toward the door. “Enjoy your party, happy birthday.”
Juliet left Mercutio’s side as quickly as she’d arrived, returning to Tybalt. “Please don’t go, I want to see you. At least try to get along with them. You just got here.” Juliet smiled sweetly up at her cousin, who stayed dark-eyed and serious.
“Yeah, Tybalt, I’m very intrigued by your flower choices. How about we get to know each other better?” Mercutio walked over to him, slinging his arm around Tybalt’s shoulders loosely like they had been friends for years. “Let’s let Juliet get back to her super awesome party, and we can chat a little more.
Mercutio led the man to the door, who, for some odd reason, followed him. Maybe out of sheer shock that Mercutio had just done that. Maybe underneath it all, Mercutio was a little shocked he’d done it himself. It felt familiar but terrifying, potentially because of Tybalt’s reputation, potentially because out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tybalt look back over his shoulder at Juliet.
As soon as the two had exited the library, returning to the loud club music outside, Tybalt tried to pull away from Mercutio. “What the hell was that?” Tybalt's face contorted into something unrecognizable, looking at Mercutio in the moment after the door closed behind them.
“You don’t talk to your family like that. You don’t insult her boyfriend while you’re in her house on her birthday, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mercutio felt his own face distort as he spoke. “You know what, Romeo did a hell of a lot more for her tonight than you did, so you’re going to grin and bear it tonight for her because that’s the sweetest woman you and I are probably ever going to meet. And she looked crushed when I showed up. Understand?”
Mercutio’s gaze finally focused on Tybalt as a whole at the end of that rant, instead of just the spot directly between the two of his eyes. The man’s face had changed, brow furrowed, but his eyes were not as dark. “Understand. Jesus.” With that, he turned away, showing Mercutio the very curly back of his head.
“I’m getting shitfaced, and you can choose to join me and actually have fun, or be really boring at a super sick party.” Mercutio stood up a little straighter, feeling like perhaps there was something akin to respect in Tybalt.
Tybalt had no clue how he’d ended up here. He’d been planning on stopping by, wishing Juliet a happy birthday, giving her the flowers a very strange man had nearly goaded him into buying, and then leaving. Heading home and making himself a shoddy dinner of whatever protein and grain he found in his fridge. He needed to go grocery shopping.
And yet, here he was, probably two hours after he had been planning on leaving with a practically untouched beer in his hand, sitting beside the same weird florist somewhere within the recesses of the giant house Juliet and Romeo owned. There were too many people around, his jacket sticking to his skin from the heat that radiated from the bodies around him. And worst of all, the florist was currently crying to him about Romeo Montague. This had gone from an unpleasant night to downright unbearable a long time ago.
“...and I just wanted him to finally notice me, y’know?” Mercutio said through a hiccuping sob. “Tybalt, will you be honest with me?” Then Mercutio was grabbing Tybalt’s shoulders, turning him to face him. Tybalt was met with bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks. God, he hated comforting people while they were crying. “Am I unlovable?”
“No, you’re not unlovable." Tybalt patted Mercutio gently on the shoulder as he tried to extricate himself from the man’s grip.
"It doesn't feel like it these days." Mercutio slurred with tears welling up in his bloodshot eyes once again. "I know I should be happy for them, I love them both, but I just feel so... so... shit." Mercutio lifted the red cup in his hands to his lips and took several gulps of whatever disgusting concoction was in it.
“Yeah, it can be like that sometimes, there are ups and downs.” Tybalt cringed inwardly; he was pretty sure his therapist would be doing the same thing right now if he could see this.
“You know what, you’re not so scary. Everyone thinks you’re this big, scary attack dog, but you’re actually a really good listener. Hey, remind me to ask you for your-” Before Mercutio could finish his sentence, he was standing and racing toward a garbage can as quickly as he could. Needless to say, he didn’t make it.
Mercutio looked around. Everything was suddenly hazy, and the colors were too much. The sound was too much. The people were too much. He felt a hand shove him backward, and a blurry hand came into focus two inches from his face. He knew someone was shouting at him, but he didn’t have it in him to care. His head hurt, and his mouth tasted sour, and he was hungry and crying, but he had forgotten why.
Suddenly, an arm wrapped around his shoulders, and he felt himself being pulled out of the way. Looking upward with tired eyes, he managed to make out Tybalt in the dimness of the room, shouting back at someone. He looked almost angelic in the dim, dark eyes, almost glittering.
Moving. They were moving down the hallway now, the beat of the song pounding in his head, powering him forward until it slowly faded. His body was so heavy now, and when Tybalt set him down on the floor of the bathroom, he reveled in the coolness of the tile. Maybe he’d spend the night here; it was so cold and comforting. But Tybalt was still there. Mercutio looked up at the man and tried to make out any comprehensible words, but the alcohol had taken a turn for the worse, muddying his brain. “Sorry.” Mercutio rested his forehead against the toilet, and then the world drifted into darkness.
Sorry? Tybalt didn’t care if Mercutio was sorry; he cared if Mercutio was fucking grateful, though, that was for sure. He knelt in front of the man, grabbing some toilet paper and cleaning the corner of his mouth, getting as much vomit off his shoes as he could.
He could have let that girl keep yelling at him after he’d thrown up on her, but no. For some stupid reason, he’d stepped in, even after being forced to listen to him drunkenly cry about Romeo for the past hour. This idiot was lucky he didn’t leave him here, shaking his shoulders. “Hey, where do you live? Wake up.” Tybalt couldn’t believe he was going to drive the florist home.
But actually, he wasn’t, considering that question just prompted a groan and a weak hand fumbling to push him away without his eyes opening.
Damn it all.
Tybalt sighed and slid his arms under Mercutio, tossing him over his shoulder. At least this meant he had a good excuse to leave. It was too fucking hot in here. Mercutio was more solid than he looked, and it took a great deal of effort to drag the man out to his car. He supposed he was bringing the florist home with him.
Mercutio woke up the next morning with a pounding headache in a room he’d never seen before in his life. He’d fallen asleep with his contacts in; he could tell from the way his eyes were drier than the Mantua and his sight was blurred. He blinked a few times as he sat up, swaying slightly at the pressure in his head. He’d never drink again.
As his vision slowly came into focus, he looked around the room. It was messy, with little plastic bottles with colorful liquids stained at the bottom covering almost every surface. Dark clothes sat in a pile in the corner of the room; at least they were contained. And the walls were covered in pictures, posters, and postcards.
Mercutio glanced at the few frames closest to the bed and saw pictures of a smiling Tybalt with strangers in foreign places; one picture was the final nail in the coffin. A much younger Tybalt stood beside Juliet, still a full head taller than her with his arms wrapped tight around her shoulders. There was no denying it; this was Tybalt’s room. And that was when the previous night started to come back.
Finally, it hit Mercutio so hard that he fell back onto the bed with his face in his hands. He had to have slept with Tybalt Capulet. How embarrassing. He'd have to sneak out the window and try his best to avoid him ever again. Maybe he could disappear forever, change his name, and forget all his friends existed.
That train of thought was cut short as he felt something furry brush his foot, and he shot back up to see a gray ball of fur standing at his feet. Two very large blue eyes stared up at him as it let out a soft meow. “Hi,” Mercutio said to the cat as it continued to stare up at him.
“She wants you to feed her.” Mercutio heard from the door, and looked over to see Tybalt standing in it, wearing a dark grey Henley and dark blue plaid pajama pants. His hair was a little frizzy, haloing his curls in the early morning light streaming into the apartment behind him. “She’s manipulative.”
“What’s her name?” Mercutio reached down and scratched the cat’s head gently, who immediately bumped into his legs again appreciatively.
“Bibble, Juliet named her.”
“Cute.” Mercutio looked down at Bibble again. There wasn’t really going to be an escape without talking to him, was there? He sighed as he picked up the cat, setting her in his lap while she let out a creaky meow before settling when he continued petting her. “So last night… did we… You know.” Mercutio nodded as he watched Tybalt’s face shift into recognition at the question.
“If you’re asking if we fucked, no, we didn’t. You really think I’d do that?” Tybalt took a few steps inside, and Mercutio felt his heart beat a little faster in his chest as he got closer. “You were so shitfaced last night you passed out in the bathroom. Didn’t know where you lived, so I just brought you here, figured that was better than leaving you there.” Tybalt scratched behind Bibble’s ears gently.
Mercutio felt shame bubble up in his throat before shoving it back down. “Well, that’s embarrassing. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Really.” Tybalt fell silent for a moment, and Mercutio used the closeness to examine him a little better. There was a small smattering of freckles across his warm tan skin, only noticeable when he was up close. His eyes were dark, but there was a softness to them while he looked down at the cat in front of him. “Last night I was thinking,” Tybalt said, knocking Mercutio out of his stupor.
“What about?”
“Well, I don’t like Romeo-”
“You’ve made that abundantly clear, trust me.” Mercutio gently moved Bibble off him. “If that’s it, I’ve got places to be.”
“Let me finish, Mercutio.” Tybalt groused as he picked the cat up instead, kissing the top of her head, which extinguished any fear that Mercutio might have had at the sheer roughness in his voice. “I don’t like Romeo, and I like him even less for Juliet. And you’ve got an interest in him if my memory from last night serves. I think we can work together and break them up. You can say you love them together as much as you want, but you don’t really want them together, do you?”
Mercutio’s eyes flicked between the cat and Tybalt quickly. As much as Mercutio didn’t want to think about it, the jealousy he felt every time he looked at Romeo and Juliet’s sickeningly sweet way, it was there. Deep in the horrible part of his stomach where he shoved his feelings, he felt something bubble to the surface. “Alright, what’s your idea?”