Following the Lead

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Justin finds himself spending most of his spare time at a quaint little gallery he stumbled upon by accident.

He can't stop staring at a piece he finds intriguing, one he thinks is ridiculous and is sure the artist must've been high when he painted, and another he hates so much he wants to tear it off the wall.

Nonetheless he seems glued to the spot in front of the three, so much so that the gallery owner, a petite woman with a harsh British accent who seems to match the eclectic interior of her gallery to perfection, offers him a job.

He wants to decline.

Wants to say, 'thank you, but I've got my own fucking work to deal with.'

But instead he finds himself accepting it, figuring that if he's spending that much time there anyway, he may as well get paid for it.

He likes working, likes the new contacts he's made, likes the extra money, but when he starts talking to the paintings, deliberately offending the one he hates, he knows it's time to go home.

Back to Pittsburgh.

Because Justin knows that while New York has been instrumental in transforming him from the little boy who could to the man who did, he is just as certain that it is no more than a stepping stone. A means of making part 'A' lead to part 'B' and 'C', and nothing more.

The Pitts holds his childhood, his family and most importantly, Brian, the one thing he's never lost sight of, the one person in his fucked up menagerie of a life that will always mean home.

He doesn't call or email, just shows up one afternoon, letting himself into the loft. As soon as he's safely ensconced inside its familiar walls he feels himself able to breathe again, knowing with clarity that the last time he'd pulled in a solid lungful was the last time he was there.

When Brian comes home, several hours later, he's treated to the sight of a naked, sleeping form barely concealed in his large bed and he can't seem to control the stupid grin spreading across his face or the sudden tourniquet squeezing his heart.

He watches Justin, his flawless back and beckoning ass facing him, and strips, tossing his clothes uncharacteristically aside as he carefully climbs in behind Justin, mindful not to wake him just yet.

When Justin stirs, a feeling of security and suddenly inexplicable longing invading his sleep, he purrs, "Brian," all other words unnecessary.

"Welcome home, Sunshine," slips lustfully from Brian's lips, his fingers and sheathed dick already slick, and he slides one long digit inside Justin's ass, his cock pulsing with envy from the tightness, his heart beating wildly from Justin's hiss and moan.

"God, Brian, please," is all Justin can manage before his back arches sharply, his desires met as Brian pushes inside.

"So tight…always so fucking tight," Brian grinds out, his teeth worrying the heated flesh of Justin's shoulder. He licks the skin, so pale and smooth and bites down again even harder.

"Fuck, Brian," Justin pants, full and needy and Brian answers his call by pulling his hips back nice and slow before slamming deep inside.

Grunts and moans fill the air, Brian's arm wrapped tightly around Justin's waist, his talented hand jerking him in time to his thrusts.

Justin bucks backward, pushing his ass as hard as he can into Brian, wanting him deeper and harder and just more, more, more…then thrusts forward so his leaking dick slides deliciously through Brian's fist, making him ache and tremble for release.

"Now, fuck, now!" Justin shouts, his ass clamping down, his dick throbbing with every shot of thick, pearly liquid.

Brian's growl of completion echoes loudly in Justin's ringing ears and he smiles, sated and content.

"Surprise," Justin manages, licking his dry lips.

Brian laughs out huskily.

He loves surprises.

**********************************************

Justin knows he has to go back to New York, but feels the necessary pull of the city wavering. He relishes every second he's home, knowing that once he returns the world will feel a lot less, right.

He doesn't tell Brian he feels that way, but he's sure he's aware of it regardless.

They spend the first night in bed, leaving only for necessity's sake. The bathroom. Food. More food.

And when they show up at the diner the following morning, Debbie squeals almost as loudly as Emmett, but surpasses him by far when the hugs come into play. She squeezes him so tight he's afraid he might be permanently damaged, but the look of joy on her face at seeing him makes it tolerable.

"What the fuck? Why didn't you tell us he was coming?" Deb snaps accusingly at Brian, who just shrugs in answer.

"It was a surprise," Justin offers, and the gang nods in unison forgivingly.

"Pancakes…and eggs…and bacon…and toast…," Deb rambles off, pointing at Justin authoritatively, and he just smiles. "Oh hell, I'll just bring you everything," she states before moving toward the back.

"What the fuck?" Brian grumbles, his order having been ignored. But when the boisterous woman returns with a steaming cup of coffee, which he knows for certain looks better than it tastes, and his egg white omelet, dry toast, and single piece of bacon, he feels an inexplicable happiness at being known.

It takes her another trip to complete Justin's order, plates littering the table with a variety of greasy, fat-laden foods that make Justin smile before he starts shoveling it in.

"Christ, one day your ass's gonna weigh more than the rest of your body combined," Brian grimaces.

But Justin just grins around a mouthful of food then swallows it all down with a healthy swig of whipped cream topped hot chocolate.

"Little shit," Brian deadpans, but can't contain the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, turning the insult into affection, watching contentedly as Justin continues to eat.

**********************************************

"Why the fuck did we say we'd go?" Brian complains.

"Because," Justin offers patiently, making his way down from the bedroom. "You wanna fuck and I wanna dance."

Brian smiles, licks his lips invitingly. "Well, we can surely do both of those things here." He glides over to the CD player, pushes a single button and smooth, enticing music pours out from the speakers.

Justin moves into a pair of waiting, open arms, fitting himself snugly against Brian's chest as solid arms enclose him.

Swaying gently to the music, Brian's nose buried atop Justin's clean, silky hair, Justin lets the overwhelming feelings of love and belonging fill him, fill every single cell, then mentally boxes them away, keeping them stored within reach so that he'll be able to visit them, take them out and indulge when he's back in New York, alone.

Lost, Justin's lulled by the reassuring beat of Brian's heart, and he feels himself melting.

"Isn't this better?" Brian asks, wondering when the thought of a night at Babylon became so unappealing, but not caring enough to find the answer as Justin pulls him down for a kiss.

**********************************************

"What happened to you guys last night?" Michael asks, seated across from Brian at Debbie's table.

"We got busy," Brian answers with a telltale grin, making his intentions crystal clear.

"Of course you did, baby," Emmett gleams proudly at Justin who blushes brightly, shifting embarrassedly behind Brian.

"Em," Justin scolds as the table erupts in laughter, Brian pulling Justin back around, planting a giddy kiss firmly against his lips.

"So when are you headed back?" Ted asks, eyeing Brian warily as he does.

Justin gazes down at his plate, then to the side, then at Brian before answering. "Um, tomorrow."

Brian feigns nonchalance, but fails miserably. He looks up to find all eyes on him, and shifts in his seat.

"When will you be back?" Ted tries again, inexplicably needing to ease Brian's discomfort.

Again Justin's eyes search the room before answering. "Well, I'm hoping that I'll be back next month." He's quiet when he finishes, as is the rest of the table.

Someone clears their throat before Justin adds, "For good."

"What?" Brian practically shouts, losing all semblance of coolness as he turns in his seat.

Justin shrugs, realizing that maybe he hadn't picked the exact right moment to spring it on Brian, but then he smiles. "I don't really need the job at the gallery," he explains, purposely leaving out the part about his plans to defile the hated painting before he quits, then adds, "and I've made enough contacts that I figure, why the fuck not, you know? New York's served its purpose, but I wanna come home."

Michael gasps, Ted nods approvingly while Emmett and Debbie grab for a much needed tissue as Ben wraps his arm comfortingly around his partner's shoulder.

"You sure?" Brian asks timidly, uncaring of the fact that all eyes are focused solely on him once again.

"Positive," Justin beams, resting his forehead against Brian's intimately.

"Well, I think this is fucking fantastic news, Sunshine. We're so glad you're coming home," Deb bolsters, dabbing at her running mascara.

"Thanks, Deb," Justin says, sitting back in his seat, Brian's warm hand resting securely on his thigh.

"So, let's fucking eat," she adds, passing the huge bowl of puttanesca to Ben, her smile warm and bright.

And as Justin piles a healthy helping of the saucy pasta on his plate he realizes that maybe his time in New York meant more than he thought. After all, if point 'A' leads to point 'B' then to 'C', all the while leading right back to where he belongs, then yeah, New York was great.

But the Pitts, it's fucking fantastic.

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