Just a snippet I did for Drabylon a few months back but forgot to post here.

Summary: Brian/Justin a few months post-513. Justin's had some time to think over this New York idea.


Reconsidering

"How long before you leave?" Brian asked as he combed his fingers through Justin's sweat soaked bangs.

"Not sure, I'm thinking at least a couple years, possibly never," Justin replied off handedly, grinning up at Brian.

Brian stared at Justin for a moment, trying to work out what was going on in that squirrelly blond head, then demanded, "What about New York?"

Justin, looking completely unconcerned, stretched like a cat, scratched at a patch of dried cum on his hip, and then explained matter-of-factly, "New York's a great city, the art and culture, the clubs, I could so see myself living there one day. But right now... I don't know what the fuck I'm doing there."

"You mean since the New York art scene didn't immediately drop to their knees and praise your brilliance you plan to run home to mommy with your tail between your legs," Brian immediately shot back.

"No, you asshole," he protested, lightly slapping Brian's chest with the back of his hand to show that he wasn't really upset about the accusation. "I mean, that after carefully weighing all my options I decided that being in New York right now is not the best way to achieve my goals," Justin explained in a mock pretentious tone. Going back to a more conversational manner he continued, "When I left things were crazy. The bombing, then the wedding and that article and you acting like a pod person. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. New York sounded like a good idea so I just got on a plane. It was a hasty decision, ill-advised, one might say harebrained."

"Harebrained?" Brian repeated, arching one eyebrow and chewing on one side of his mouth.

"When I got there, sure, the Artforum article got my foot in the door at couple places--ones that were really small and not that well known. But all anyone would even consider looking at were big pieces, like the ones in my one and only professional show--pieces that were physically impossible to do in my shoebox size New York apartment. I could rent studio space, but the only way to afford that would be to work more hours waiting tables or find a higher paying job. Except if I worked more hours I'd have no time to paint and better jobs don't usually go to college drop outs," Justin explained gesturing with his hands to further emphasize his points.

"I could--" Brian started to say.

"Don't even think about it," Justin cut him off.

"Think about what?" Brian said in his most innocent tone.

"You know what, and it's completely out of the question. I've got to do this for myself," Justin insisted.

"And what exactly is it you're planning on doing?" Brian asked, honestly curious. This definitely didn't sound like Justin was about to suggest coming home, getting married, and becoming the little woman who dabbled in art.

"Well, I figured I could either spend years as a starving artist in New York just crossing my fingers and hoping for my big break--after six months in New York I can tell you the Artforum article isn't it, at least not by itself. Or I could come back here, finish school, build up my portfolio in studio space I can actually afford, get some showings in local galleries to get my name out there, and then either get an agent who'll shop me around while I work in Pittsburgh, or go back to New York in a couple years with an actual plan."

"It sounds like you've got it all figured out."

"You're not going to argue with me?" Justin asked, sounding both surprised and confused.

"If I thought you were giving up your dream to be with me, no fucking way would I let you do it," Brian began.

"Let me?" Justin interjected in protest.

"But it doesn't sound like you're giving up on anything," Brian continued, ignoring Justin’s outburst. He paused for a second then smirked. "Besides, when I was unemployed my partner being an art school drop out was no big deal, but now that I'm a successful business man it's pretty fucking embarrassing."