Chapter Text
The club is not her scene, but Livia had insisted and then Juliet joined the pleading, so Rosaline was currently sitting at the bar, watching her sister dance with someone she didn’t know. Juliet had disappeared with Romeo Montague of all people a little bit before, so Rosaline was alone, as she predicted she would be.
It’s not that she doesn’t like the club, per say, it just brings up memories she would rather not remember. Memories about beautiful boys with soulful eyes who tell you they love you and then dump you unceremoniously, while at said club. So, she doesn’t hate the club, she hates the memories because she can’t bring herself to hate the boy.
The bartender refills her glass and she spins in the chair to glance around again, when he steps into her vision.
Benvolio Montague, looking at little lost without his boys. His hair is a mess, in a pitiful way, the scruff on his cheeks a little bit more than scruff, and his eyes are sadder than usual. Not that she spends a lot of time looking at him, but the times they had run into each other in the past, more often now because of Romeo and Juliet, had given her a prototype. She takes a sip from her drink and the next thing she knows, he is standing next to her, ordering drink she’s never even heard of.
“Capulet.” He says, downing half the drink in a single sip.
“Montague.”
His eyes dance up to hers, his elbow brushing against her knee as he places his cup backdown.
“You look like shit.” She doesn’t mean to say it, but it slips out.
He laughs, harsh and hollow, just enough for his features to get even darker, before he takes another sip of his drink.
“Matches my personality then doesn’t it.” His words are typically teasing when it come to her, but now they just feel mean. Against himself. Somethings wrong and she shouldn’t care that much, but she is bored. They may not like each other very much but that doesn’t mean she wants to see him like this.
“I always thought you were more of a dick than shit.” She teases. Rosaline leans closer to him. “Are you okay?”
His head swings toward her so fast that he nearly knocks her teeth. “Why do you care?”
She steels her features before answering him. “Because, somethings obviously wrong and I was trying to make sure you were okay, but if you are going to be an asshole about it,” she grabs her drink and goes to move, but he places a hand on her arm.
“Wait,” His voice cracks, and she may not like him but she’s not going to leave him alone. “I’m sorry. My girlfriend broke up with me a few weeks ago, and I learned she’s moved on. The boys dragged me out tonight, I shouldn’t be taking it out on you Capulet.”
“See, wasn’t that hard was it.”
He sighs instead of answering her. And then, because she’s on her second drink, and slightly as miserable as the man next to her, she turns to him and proceeds to run her hands through his hair.
“What are you – ”
“Just because you are miserable does not mean your hair should be a disaster.” It takes a moment for her to realize just how close this brings them, but she can’t bring herself to mind. “There.” She pulls her hands back and smiles, feeling proud of herself. “Now, you can charm any girl you want into dancing with you tonight.”
He brings his hand up to touch it, but she swats his hand away. “Don’t ruin my hard work.”
Benvolio licks his bottom lip, and very, very suddenly, Rosaline’s throat is very, very dry. He looks like he’s about to say something else, when his eyes darken and his jaw clenches.
“Fuck.”
“Excuse me?”
“Stella. She’s here.” The broken look is in his eyes again, and Rosaline scans the crowd for said heartbreaker.
“Okay new plan.” Rosaline downs the rest of her drink, and grabs the Montague’s hands pulling him from the bar to the dance floor.
“What?”
“We don’t seem to have enough time for you to charm any girl you want, so you can pretend to charm me.” It’s a ridiculous plan, something a sober and right minded Rosaline would never say. But she hasn’t danced with a cute boy since Escalus, and that was months ago. If the cute boy had to be Benvolio Montague, and only to spite his ex, then so be it.
“You want me to charm you Capulet?” A smirk falls upon his lips, making him look more like the Benvolio Montague she knows.
“Only if you think you can.”
“That a challenge?” His hands migrate to her waist and Rosaline shrugs her shoulders, just as the music changes into a louder, more upbeat song.
It’s one that she used to dance to with her girls, all the way back in high school, and for a second, she’s brought back. Back to being 17, when Romeo claimed he was in love with her, leaving sonnets in her locker and singing to her in the hallways. He had asked her to prom and she had turned him down, because he was embarrassing her, because he was a Montague, and Capulets and Montagues did not like each other.
Her eyes shoot open and she glances around the room for Livia and Juliet. Livia is still dancing with the boy Rosaline doesn’t know, and Juliet is laughing at Romeo try to dance, so she relaxes, and Benvolio’s hands travel to her back to pull her closer.
She remembers Ben from high school then, too lanky for his own good, not yet grown into his skin. He was always in the back of those memories, jaw clenched, eyes dark. That image clashes with the man in front of her. He has a smile on his face, one she hasn’t seen in a long time. Their noses brush against each other’s, and Rosaline is once again reminded of how close they are.
“Thank you.” He whispers, lips brushing her ear. It sends a jolt of electricity through her body but she ignores it.
“For what?”
He takes her hand and spins her, laughter bubbling through her body.
“You didn’t have to do this. I mean, we don’t like each other very much –”
She places a finger over his lips, effectively shutting him up. “We don’t like each other for the principle of the fact. Because we are told not to. I like you enough that this isn’t a burden. So, shut up and dance, Ben.”
And she’s not lying to him. If it wasn’t for the stupid feud between their families, she is certain they would have been friends ages ago. They both are the mother hens of their friend groups, keeping an eye on everyone, picking them up when they needed it, herding them home when they had too much. And Ben challenges her. Maybe it’s because they are both the oldest, or the because they have the same creative type of mind, but whatever it is, when they argue or when they bicker or just talk, she feels like she feels invigorated.
His eyes flicker to her lips and he pulls her even closer to him.
“You said my name, Ros.”
His words effectively shut off her brain to everything except Benvolio Montague. She can feel every part of her body that is pressed against his. She can almost taste his breathe on her lips.
“This okay?” He asks, pulling her even closer. They aren’t even dancing anymore, just standing pressed up against each other in the middle of the dance floor.
Instead of answering his question, she slides her hands up his body until she can cup his face and drag his lips down to hers.
She kisses him until she can’t breathe, and then grabs his hand, pulling him through the crowd until she finds a dark corner, so she can kiss him again without worrying about someone knocking them over.
He says her name again before he kisses her, again when he licks his way down her throat, again when he bites on her collar bone.
His fingertips dance along the edge of her shirt, and she’s two seconds from dragging him into the bathroom, when she feels it. The vibrations coming from her left pocket. She groans, letting her head fall on Ben’s chest as she pulls her phone, to 5 missed calls and a voicemail from Juliet.
“Have you seen Ben? Mercutio’s throwing up and Romeo can’t handle him by himself, and if you find him, we’re in the south bathrooms.” The phone clicks, and Ben’s eyes stare into hers, pupils still wide, mouth red and bruised.
“Your boys need you.”
Ben sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. “Where?”
“South bathrooms. Need some backup?”
“No. the less people Merc has to talk while drunk the better. Should I send Juliet back here?”
“The bar will be good.” Rosaline tries not to be disappointed but she is. Ben Montague is possibly the best kiss she’s ever had, and it would all mean nothing come morning. It was a game, a ruse, and by tomorrow, they would be back to what they were before. Two people who didn’t like each other very much, but dealt with each other’s company because they had to.
She pats his shoulder as she walks past, because she can’t think of anything else to say.
“Hey Capulet.” He grabs her arm, just before she’s out of his reach. “For the record, I would have charmed the pants off you.”
She rolls her eyes and pushes him toward the bathrooms, trying to stop the smile from growing on her face.
“Until next time, beloved!”