Disclaimer: Romeo&Juliet, Mercutio, Tybalt, and all other characters mentioned do not belong to me.

A/n: Obviously, Mercutio and Tybalt never had anything going on. I'm pretty sure that they never wanted to, either. This is just a figment of my imagination.

Quicksilver

Mercutio lives up to his name. He is quicksilver, always slipping through Tybalt’s fingers, away from him. Tybalt finds this infuriating, especially during those precious few moments the two of them can snatch together.

It started when Tybalt stumbled into Mercutio one night. The other man was inebriated, reeling drunkenly home. When he spotted Tybalt, he sauntered up to him, feet unsteady.

“Ah, it is the Prince of Cats!” he slurred, and then he crushed his lips against Tybalt’s.

Tybalt was stunned. He stiffened under Mercutio’s touch. But there was fire coursing through his blood; Mercutio was a lick of flame, dangerous, a hazard. Tybalt, always reckless, pulled him closer.

They meet several more times, almost always at night. Once, in a fit of daring stupidity, Mercutio climbs into Tybalt’s room during the day. Tybalt is furious (and a little frightened, although he will never admit it) but Mercutio soon charms his way into Tybalt’s bed. He is forced to clamber hastily out the window, only half-dressed and still drowsy, when Lord Capulet pays his nephew a surprise visit. Mercutio’s exits are always hasty and abrupt; they drive Tybalt insane, the way they always leave him feeling only half-satiated.

When Tybalt’s sword pierces Mercutio’s body, he sees the look of utter surprise on the other man’s face. Trembling, he turns and runs. He watches from a distance as Mercutio is carried into a building, and then in his own fit of stupidity (more out of grief than daring) he sneaks inside.

Mercutio is breathing shallowly. He is close to death. Tybalt leans down and kisses him; Mercutio returns the caress, weakly.

“Prince of Cats,” he croaks, almost an endearment.

Then there is a clatter as Benvolio returns, and Tybalt clambers out the window, as hastily as Mercutio ever did.

As always, he feels only half-fulfilled. But he knows what he wants to do. He turns his steps back where he came, back to where Romeo stands, grieving.

Romeo cries at him, telling him that Mercutio’s soul has fled to heaven and one of them will join him soon.

Tybalt has made up his mind, and he knows who that will be. He doesn’t feel as empty as before.