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Yuletide 2022
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Published:
2022-12-18
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1,347
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1/1
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my heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

Summary:

As far as everyone else was concerned, Rosaline and Benvolio’s relationship started at Romeo and Juliet’s wedding.

Notes:

Work Text:

The cake had been cut, Juliet and Romeo were having their first dance as a married couple, and Rosaline’s aunt was berating her for not somehow managing to stop this wedding.

“Everyone says you are a smart girl, yet you cannot manage to convince Juliet of what a terrible choice that Romeo is-” Giuliana hissed in her ear, her nails digging into Rosaline’s forearm.

Rosaline, being subjected to this complaint for the thousand time, was at the ragged edge of her temper.

“Juliet is an adult and if this marriage is a mistake, it’s hers to make-“

Giuliana’s eye narrowed. “I knew you never truly cared for your cousin’s happiness, you selfish-“

“Excuse me,” Benvolio Montague loudly interrupted, peeling her aunt’s hand off of Rosaline’s arm. “We’re needed on the dance floor.”

Benvolio lead her away, pulling her into middle the dance floor.

“Well, the end is in sight, Capulet,” he said. “I’m amazed they pulled this off without anyone actually objecting.”

“Juliet told everyone that if they objected, they’d be uninvited to the Christening.”

Benvolio chuckled.

One would think that if two families in the same city hated each other, they could keep their distance. But no, the Montagues and Capulets were always at the same events, the same church, the same business dealings. 

And now the two heirs were married. Rosaline didn’t have a lot of optimism for this boding well for the families affections for each other.

Rosaline and Benvolio, as maid of honor and best man, respectively, had spent months on the front line of each family’s unhappiness, dealing with parental tantrums and problems with vendors while Romeo and Juliet were oblivious to everything except each other. A couple more hours, the happy couple would depart for their honeymoon, and Rosaline’s thread with Benvolio would stop being at the top of her text messages constantly.

Over Benvolio’s shoulder, Romeo and Juliet were swaying, staring into each other’s eyes.

Rosaline had spent months bogged down in details, her cousin's engagement representing family fights and a never ending to-do list but now, watching Romeo gaze at Juliet, fairy lights twinkling above them, soft music playing, Rosaline could appreciate the romance of it all.

She exhaled, leaning a little bit into Benvolio. 

“Capulet, why is your boyfriend glaring at me?” he asked.

Rosaline tensed up again and forced herself not to turn around.

“Ex,” she said shortly.

“What?” Benvolio stared into her eyes. “Why did you break up with him? I thought you were head over heels.”

Rosaline clenched her teeth. “He ended things,” she said. She didn’t provide the details. The way Escalus had been abrupt and detached, forced her to plead with him for an explanation, and the eventual revelation that his father didn’t approve, and that he didn’t care enough for her to stand up to his father’s wish for Escalus to be with someone who wasn’t tied to one of Verona’s premier families.

“Idiot,” Benvolio snorted. A pause and then he brought his mouth to her ear. “Play along,” he breathed and Rosaline shivered.

He dropped his mouth lower, kissed her pulse point, down the line of her neck and then bit gently at her shoulder.

Behind her, Rosaline heard something crash.

 

 

That’s how it began.

Benvolio was an impressively good fake boyfriend.

Escalus was quietly furious that she’d found a new partner so quickly, and kept sending her late night texts that were alternatively annoyed and coaxing.

By following Juliet’s lead and dating a Montague, she became a less appealing ear for her aunt and uncle’s laments on Juliet’s marriage.

With Livia at college she had lost her partner for Verona’s carousel of social events – Benvolio stepped into that role, providing amusing commentary and being an oasis of sanity when the rivalry between their families became especially ridiculous.

She wasn’t entirely sure what Benvolio got out of this – it had been six months and he hadn’t brought up staging a break up – but she had her suspicions.

Despite Benvolio’s reputation as a fuckboy, the only past partner Rosaline had come across was Stella. During an awkward conversation in the theater bathroom during an acrobatic performance, Rosaline had pieced together that it hadn’t been Benvolio’s misbehavior that lead to their break up.

At the autumn cider pressing party, she’d interrupted an intense fight between Benvolio and his uncle. Damiano had slurred at her to take her useless sot of a boyfriend away from him.

Rosaline has snapped at him to never speak to her boyfriend like that again, and if he didn’t get himself together she’d have security throw him out on his drunken ass. Benvolio had spent the rest of the night gazing at her, his blue eyes bright.

Now, it was the annual Christmas party at Verona’s Opera House.

Rosaline pressed on the buzzer to Benvolio’s flat.

A few moments later, he opened the door and she was greeted with him in track pants and a shirt that was clinging to his chest.

“You’re not even dressed yet?” she complained. “We’re going to be late.”

“We’re not going to be late, I just need to shower,” Benvolio argued.

“And shave and get dressed and spend far too long fiddling with your hair,” Rosaline said as she put her purse and coat on his kitchen island.

When he didn’t respond, she looked over to see him staring at her.

“What?” she asked.

She saw him swallow. “That’s certainly… a dress.”

Rosaline thought so too – she was wearing a one-armed cocktail dress in a gorgeous midnight blue – she’d fallen in love with it as soon as she saw it on the hanger. 

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Benvolio nodded and headed into the bathroom.

Rosaline sighed, checked her phone for any new messages, and then glanced over. Benvolio’s sketch book was at the other end of the kitchen island. If he wasn’t going to be ready in time, she wasn’t going to feel any compunctions about snooping.

He’d shown her his sketchbook a couple of times and while she was careful not to praise him too much, she did admit he had an artist’s eye (and sometimes, temperament).

She flipped to the middle, seeing some works he’d already shown her. Romeo and Juliet, cuddling together on a couch. Her looking at her phone. Several pages of studies of the interior of the Basilica of San Zeno Maggiore. Then there were new drawings. Her and Livia laughing with glasses of wine. A page with multiple drawings of hands. Her looking at the statue of Dante in the Piazza dei Signori. Her on a park bench with dark sunglasses and a large coffee. A page that was only different profiles of her face, undeniably her, even if the artist had drawn her with more beauty than was apparent in a mirror…

“Capulet,” Benvolio said and Rosaline whirled around. He was standing right behind her in just a towel, his skin damp and glowing from the shower.

They both looked down at the sketchbook in her hands. She snapped it close but it was clear what page she was looking at.

There was a silence and then Benvolio forced a smile.

“You can’t blame a man for wanting to spare himself,” he said.

“From what?” Rosaline asked, stepping closer. Benvolio’s eyes were incredibly, distractingly blue.

He reached out, cupped her cheek. “From being tossed aside when you go back to Escales.”

“I’m not going back to him!” Rosaline protested. “That’s over. He’s not the one I… the one I trust. Not the person I want to be with.”

Benvolio searched her face. Whatever he saw steeled him - he leaned forward and captured her mouth in a rush.

Rosaline kissed him back. She set the sketchbook aside and Benvolio wrapped an arm around her and lifted her up to join the sketchbook on the kitchen island, her knees bracketing his waist. She tugged his towel loose and then wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him tight against her.

Benvolio and Rosaline did not attend the annual holiday party at the Verona Opera House that year.