Disclaimer: Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou copyright? Why dost it not lie in my possession? Has it to do with my name? Shall I change it to Shakespeare and then possess all that I desire?

Too bad it wouldn't actually work that way.

So no. I claim no ownership to Romeo and Juliet…not that I want them, mind you. Are Benvolio and Mercutio for sale?

Chapter Two:

First Re-Meeting

Dreams were figments of a sleeping mind's imagination. That was all. Still, as a firm realist, Benvolio couldn't deny that his most persistent dream was standing beside him.

Mostly.

"I hesitate to say me at running the risk of sounded like a simple minded cliché, but you, I assume, are Benvolio Montague. Mr. Prince has already told you about me, I see," Mercutio said cheerfully.

He wasn't strictly the dream. Small things weren't quite right. His hair was lighter and it appeared to be wavier, though pulled back in a proper pony tail it was hard to tell. And he was a bit thinner than the dream, less muscular perhaps. But still…it was creepy.

Benvolio didn't do creepy.

"I did not do any such thing," Mr. Prince said stiffly, continuing in broken English for Benvolio's benefit.

"Really?" Mercutio said, sounding positively delighted. "So we've already got a connection, you and I."

"I wouldn't say that," Benvolio muttered, feeling his face turning pink. He had a sinking feeling that whatever happened next was not going to be good.

"My name's Mercutio Prince. Call me Mercutio unless annoying loudmouth strikes your fancy as the two are more or less synonymous," the whirlwind of words spouted off in one breath, smiling at Benvolio all the while.

Either he was going to hate this guy, or he'd found his new best friend.

"That's all well and good, but why're you here?" Benvolio asked after a moment. The sunny disposition of Mercutio set against the stern, commanding nature of the principal was a bit awkward at best.

"It may have occurred to you that the vast majority of people in Italy tend to speak Italian, which if I understand correctly, you don't." Mercutio looked for confirmation. Benvolio nodded, sighing.

"So rather than assign you an older sort of person, with whom you'd have nothing in common and would merely hinder your social development at this fine school, you've been stuck with me as your translator. I promise to mangle only half your sentences for a laugh."

"Thank you," Benvolio said dryly. "I feel at home already."

"I try," Mercutio said modestly.

"Now that introductions are done, time to get to class, I think," Mr. Prince said in a manner that was a little less suggestive and a whole lot more, 'Get the hell out of my office, I don't want to deal with you anymore.'

"But of course, we'd hate to miss more of history than we already have," Mercutio agreed, winking at Benvolio who promptly stared determinedly at the floor. He refused to be bothered by this guy. It just wasn't going to work out if he blushed at every little thing, especially since he had previously considered himself to be the unflappable sort.

Of course, that had been in America where he'd had numerous people to converse with, should he so have desired. (Which he hadn't)

All right, maybe the move had flapped him a little. Having a grand total of three and a half people to speak with made him a tad bit uncomfortable.

"Come, Benvolio, off we go into the harsh world of high school, leaving dear cousin to fiddle with paper work at his desk," Mercutio declared, taking Benvolio's hand and pulling him out of the chair and out the door, striding down the hallway and toward the staircase in the middle of the hall.

"The principal's your cousin?" Benvolio had to ask once they were out of hearing range of the office and Mercutio had finally slowed down- but hadn't his hand.

"Well surely the shared last name gave away relation, if not a specific one," Mercutio said easily.

"I try not to draw conclusions," Benvolio shrugged.

"So then you haven't even wondered why I speak flawless English, have you?" Mercutio sounded disappointed.

"Nope. Why question a good thing?"

"Is it a good thing?" Mercutio asked slyly.

"Well," Benvolio answered wryly, "There's a certain bonus to having someone to talk to. I've never really master the art of pantomime."

Mercutio laughed. "Look at it this way; you should pass English with flying colors."

"I make no guarantee, especially since I suspect there'll be translations involving Italian, which could pose a problem."

"Well then I guess you're going to have learn Italian, aren't you?"

"I guess I will," Benvolio agreed, smiling slightly. His guide smiled in return and for a few moments they walked in comfortable silence. Then-

"Stop," Mercutio said, out of the blue. Benvolio stumbled slightly, crashing into him. Mercutio clutched his hand tighter and turned around to steady the smaller boy.

"It'd be bad form to fall down the stairs your first day of school," Mercutio teased lightly.

"I'll hold off 'til tomorrow then," Benvolio returned sarcastically, "And keep on the look out for sudden stops in staircases until then."

"I apologize for my abruptness," Mercutio said dramatically. "Let me make it up to you by taking this time to explain our tiny campus to you."

"We had to stop in the middle of a staircase for you to do that?" Benvolio rolled his eyes.

"Well once we made it onto the floor, we'd be subject to the teachers' whims, and they're all rather tetchy about uncouth students talking while they are imparting all their knowledge and wisdom," Mercutio explained, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Uncouth?" Benvolio raised his eyebrow.

"Didn't you know? As teenagers we have no sense of common decency, common sense, or anything that makes a person civilized. We don't get that until we're out of college," Mercutio said, giving into the grin. "Anything you're thinking about the teachers now, you're wrong. They're worse. And only a couple teachers in the entire school are not a nun or priest or something."

"Or something?"

"The librarian's a monk."

"Ah."

"The school's set up really simply, four stories, each grade has all the required classes on their floor, freshmen on the first floor and going up from their, so we're on the top floor. There's a field behind the main building used for all the sports they can and phys. ed. Connected to the left of the main building is the art wing where you have all the electives and to the right is the recently built cafeteria and small- and I emphasize small- indoor gym," Mercutio informed him.

"So basically it would take true talent to get lost," Benvolio observed.

"If you do, I promise whatever derogatory nickname we come up with, it'll be at least half-way witty," Mercutio cracked. Benvolio grinned slightly.

"Thanks, appreciate small favors."

"No problem."

"So to class now?"

"Nah, the period must be almost over. Let's just wait for the bell and go to second block instead," Mercutio decided offhandedly.

"Sounds good to me." He wasn't in any rush. And besides- he was enjoying himself.

Maybe a little creepy was good now and again.

BMBMBMBMBMBMBMBM

"I am tired," Benvolio whispered to the grave. "Would thou agree I may sleep now? Would thou agree that I am completed now with this grievous lot?"

He fell silent for a moment, clutching the grass beneath him in hand.

"Mercutio," he cried in anguish, his breath ragged, tears burning his eyes.

"Would thou agree I may see thee once more?" he choked.

And, invisible, another wept with him.

"Yes," Mercutio whispered back. "Yes!"

"So," Queen Mab said coolly, rewinding the picture now paused on her personal screen, "You are in place?"

"Yes ma'am," her faithful subordinate replied, kneeling. Mab looked at him.

"Well?" she prompted. Her voice echoed throughout the hall- everything seemed so much larger wit the minions away.

"The syllabus sucks," the subordinate said frankly, "Full of nothing but the worst abominations of the literary world."

"And this of any consequences to me?" Mab inquired, her tone turning to ice, wondering if she was going to have to look into replacements. And she thought after she had disposed of the last batch…apparently uselessness was catching.

"W-well, n-not per say," the subordinate stammered. "B-but I am in ch-charge of the school play."

"What is it?" Queen Mab demanded testily.

"Hamlet."

"That won't work."

"What?"

"You will be performing Romeo and Juliet, of course," Mab said, wondering why that was not exceedingly obvious.

"Why?" the subordinate asked, nailing another one into his coffin.

"You do know why you're at that school, don't you?" I want them to see it, of course! However," Mab added, her voice becoming deadly quiet, "None of them are to be in it. Do you understand? Especially not cast as themselves. We don't want any unpleasant…accidents."

"Yes, ma'am," the faithful subordinate said immediately.

"Now go," Queen Mab commanded, a wry smile coming onto her face." You have to get to class."

Author's Notes: (dryly) I at this point, it's becoming something of a habit to update this fic every four months. Ah well, better every four months than not at all, I suppose. Sorry the chapters aren't longer, honestly I wrote this one in double Latin…but in a (slightly) interesting side note, the play my lovely school happens to be performing this years is Romeo and Juliet. So I might even be forced to update next week, in only to remove such horrendous scenes from my mind (Mercutio is being played by a woman! –insert sigh-). Anyway, thank you for all the reviews on chapter one, they were greatly appreciated. Hopefully someone will still be hanging around to review this one, too…Remo

Time-Again: Not so much action this chapter, but a wee bit of romance. And next chapter there'll be some action. –laughs- After all, we're meeting most everyone else next chapter. Bring on the chaos! Erm, and maybe Dr. Frankenstein? –calls after Wolfe- Will she be coming back?