The Chustin Fall; a drabble. For The-Hypocritical-Critic.
So, this was prompted by a post made by The-Hypocritical-Critic , in which “Justin’s watching Sherlock (Riechenbach) and Charlie is oh so Heterosexually cuddling him.”
So, I’m totally not sure that this is what you wanted, but I hope you like it!
Also, the ending kind of got away from me… so let’s just hope you don’t hate it.
“So Justin,” Charlie calls as he walks into his fellow prefect’s room, eyes downcast to his cell phone. “Care to explain why I just got an S.O.S text from Spencer saying, and I quote, ‘Chaz, get your Windsor ass over here, Justin’s turned into a woman, S.O.S.’?”
“SHUT UP!” Justin’s voice booms, and Charlie swears he can hear all of Hanover vacating in terror. Flinching at the volume of the rude remark, Charlie scowls, eyes sweeping across the room.
His gaze stops on a heap of blankets that are strewn across Justin’s couch, and he slowly walks towards the piece of furniture.
“Shut it Chaz!” Justin barks, and Charlie can hear the soft sound of voices that accompany Justin’s demand. Getting closer to the couch, Charlie sees Justin’s laptop open in front of him on the coffee table, with what looks like a video of a man on top of a building playing on it’s screen.
”What are you-” Charlie begins, and in a flash of movement he’s being pulled over the couch, flipping over it’s back and narrowly missing a rude meeting between his legs and the table. “Damn it Switzerland! What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Charlie Amos if you don’t shut your mouth right now I. Will. Kill. You.” Justin threatens darkly, his eyes having never left the laptop.
Charlie glares at the British boy, rubbing his neck and sitting up right on the couch. Grumbling under his breath, he squints at the laptop and rolls his eyes when he realizes what’s playing.
“Damn British shows.” He whispers and slumps back against the cushions, resigning himself to waiting for the show to finish.
Justin still says nothing, his eyes glued to the video.
“How are you even watching this? They don’t even show it in America!”
“Han. Livestream. Shut up!”
Charlie glares again, looking to the show. He listens with mild interest as a cellphone conversation proceeds between Sherlock and Watson, his mind trying to make sense as to why the man is on a roof.
Justin lets out a whimper suddenly, causing his friend’s gaze to fly to his face. Charlie stares in shock as Justin seems to start shaking with his hands flying to his mouth.
“No no no no nonononononono!” Justin cries, his voiced muddled by his fingers.
“NO! SHERLOCK! HOW COULD YOU!” Justin shouts, and he leaps up from where he sat. Charlie’s head snaps towards the laptop, and he sees the blond man, Watson, standing from where he had been hit by a bicycle.
“What are you-“
“NO!” Justin shrieks again, and Charlie stands next to him.
“NO, NO, NO!” Justin isn’t stopping, and his hand flies out to point to the laptop. Charlie’s gaze follows his arm to the screen, finally seeing what had thrown Justin into his hysteria.
Sherlock Holmes lay dead, having jumped from the roof.
“Justin it’s just a sho-” Charlie begins, but it’s no use. While a disorented John Watson makes his way to the body of his friend, Justin sinks back to the couch, Charlie following.
“Nononononononono. This is not supposed to- How could he- He has to be alive!” Charlie stares wide-eyed at his usually collected friend, seeing tears in the boy’s eyes.
“Justin, it’s uh…it’s alright.” Charlie gently wraps an arm around the other prefect’s shoulders, tensing slightly when Justin falls into the embrace.
“Charlie, you don’t understand! Sherlock Holmes just- How could he do that to John? He can’t just! He is not dead!” Justin’s voice audibly softens to a pained whisper at the end of his statement, his eyes glued to the screen.
“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” Justin moans as he sees Watson checking Sherlock’s pulse, finding nothing.
Charlie stays quiet, rubbing a hand up and down Justin’s arm in what he hopes is a comforting motion.
The two friends watch the show further, Justin gasping and shuddering during especially depressing moments of the aftermath of Sherlock’s suicide. Charlie pulls them back, to where Justin is just barely laying on the Windsor’s chest. He feels Justin melt into his side, and Charlie - just barely- smiles.
When John Watson is found in a cemetery, Justin clasps a hand over his mouth, drawing in a shuddering breath as the doctor speaks his last words to his friend.
“Look, please, there’s just one more thing. One more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don’t. Be. Dead.”
As the blond man’s voice travels through the laptop speakers, Justin lets lout a shaky whimper.
“Would you do that? Just, for me? Just…stop it. Stop this!”
Justin’s speaks in a dismayed moan, turning his head into Charlie’s chest.
“Noooooooo! How could you Moffat? How could you do this to me!” Justin cries, his hand tightening in his friend’s shirt.
Justin shudders, keeping his face buried.
“Justin!” Charlie splutters, and Justin looks at the screen. He lets out a cry of shock (girly, squealing shock), shooting upwards into a standing position again, because there, on his screen, is Sherlock Holmes.
“HE’S ALIVE! SHERLOCK’S ALIVE! I KNEW IT!” Justin cries, flinging his arms upward and jumping in triumph. Though, as quick as the excitement comes, it’s gone again, Justin returning to Charlie’s arms. He falls onto the boy’s chest, and he’s shaking again.
“Justin?” Charlie says slowly, questioning his friend’s emotional stability. “Are you alr- Justin, he’s alive! Shouldn’t you be…happy?”
“Happy?!” Justin cries, “I’m supposed to be happy when John Watson thinks Sherlock Holmes is dead? I’m Supposed to be happy when he’s going to have to live day after day with everyone telling him that Sherlock was a lie?”
“I’m supposed to be happy when Steven Moffat goes and does that! All of that! How can I be happy when that show just tore every emotion I have to shreds?” Justin shrieks, his arms latching onto Charlie’s waist, and Charlie can feel his shirt getting damp from his friend’s crying.
“Justin, it’s alright…”
“No it’s not Chaz!” Justin tells him in a whimper, shuddering. Charlie wraps his arms around the teen, trying not to be too awkward as he practically cuddled the Brit.
No wonder everyone thinks we’re Gay. Charlie thinks, rolling his eyes. I’m totally not. Not for Justin.
“Shh, Switzerland.” Charlie comforts, Justin’s head tucking under his chin.
“But Charlie, I can’t just feel normal after that!” Justin says, drawing the slightest bit away from his friend, accent growing thicker with every word. “I mean, Moffat, he burned my heart out! And now I sound like a damn girl, because it’s so- so- I don’t even know what to say!” Justin flails from lack of what to say, his mouth opening and closing.
Justin falls back onto his friend, Charlie sighing and realizing that he isn’t going anywhere any time soon.
“It’s just a show, Justin…” Charlie rolls his eyes as his friend wails again, not-so-reluctantly putting his arms back around the brunette.
Hours later, when Spencer walks into the room and finds Justin asleep on Charlie’s chest, tissues littering the coffee table and a pile of blankets covering the two prefects, he can barely contain his amusement.
“Say one word, Hanover, and I end you.” Charlie grumbles, his arm tightening around Justin and burying his nose in the prefect’s hair. Justin groans quietly at the change, moving in closer to his friend while he slept.
“Oh, dear Windsor,” Spencer begins, an evil grin painting his features, as he pulls out his cell phone. “Why say one when a picture’s worth a thousand?” With a flash, Spencer smirks wickedly. “I’m sure the Tweedles will appreciate this…”
“Evan, is that-“
“-Our dear queens?”
“It is indeed-“
“How heterosexual of them.”
Yeah….I’m hoping you didn’t hate it?