Random idea that popped into my head. Possible two or three shot. Review please.
Dylan looked down at his little brother who had his arms wrapped around his waist, "Don't worry kid, you'll get out of here. I promise you Luke." His arms tightened around the five year old. He only hoped he wouldn't have to follow him to his new home if Luke was solely adopted.
"o Gallchobhair, someone's here to see you," the older orphan told him. The black haired eleven year old looked up at the blond teen. Around the corner came his little brother, a big grin plastered on his face.
"Dylan!" Luke cried happily, hugging his older brother around the waist.
"Hey kid, dude, you've grown, gonna be breaking hearts soon," he laughed, looking over his brother, who he saw twice a year, on Dylan's birthday, and the day before Luke's birthday. "What are you doing here? Don't tell me..." He didn't want those people to have left him back there after two years.
Luke shook his head, pointing over at the small family walking towards them. He remembered the father from when he was saying his goodbyes to Luke, and he was guessing the two ladies were his wife and daughter, who didn't look any older than Luke. "You're coming home with us," Luke told him.
Dylan looked up at Morgan Ross, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Welcome to the family, Dylan Ross," the director told his adopted son.
"You want to help me pack my stuff Luke?" The younger boy nodded, racing off to his room. "I'm keeping my dad's name," Dylan told him bluntly. He was greatful he was going to be with his brother, but he wasn't leaving his father's name behind. Morgan nodded his head understandingly before Dylan sprinted down to his room to help Luke pack his minimum ammount of possissions.
"Why is Dylan's last name o Gallchobhair?" Jessie asked Burtram.
The butler looked at her, then around to make sure Luke wasn't around, less he knew the better. "He kept his parent's last name. Really it's Gallagher but his and Luke's dad went by the Celtic pronunciation instead," he replied in a hushed tone.
"Luke didn't keep it?" She whispered.
A new person entered the conversation. "Because he doesn't remember our parents, or our little brother. He was five when he was adopted, three when our family died. Ya know Jessie, I'd rather you asked me instead of gossiping with Burtram; I won't bite your head off," Dylan told her, his thick accent filling the room. "I'd rather he doesn't remember it."
The Texan looked at the Irish decendant, "I'm sorry Dylan."
"It's okay, I understand you asking him instead of me, trying not to strike a nerve. Next time, just come to me," the actor replied. "And just so you know, I was adopted two years after Luke."
"Why did they wait that long?" Jessie questioned.
The sixteen year old hopped up onto the counter, much to Burtram's disconfert, "Didn't plan on adopting me at first. But Luke subconsciously remember's the car crash, and he had nightmares. No one could calm him down, except me. Finally, two years later, they came back and adopted me. I was eleven. A few months later Morgan had my audition for one of his movies for a lead. I got it, how I became an actor. Basically my whole life story."
"You're leaving something out, I can tell," she mentioned, eyes scanning over his face. He glanced at the butler, who had left the kitchen. "What is it?"
Dylan shook his head, jumping down onto the tiled floor. He turned to leave but Jessie caught the collar of his t-shirt. Dylan struggled to escape, losing his shirt in the process. The eighteen year old gasped when she saw the scars. They were ragged and horrifying. It looked like he was in a war, prisioner of war who was tortured for information. Dylan grabbed his shirt from her hand, pulling it over his head and covering the scars of his past. "Just, leave it alone," he growled, running out of the apartment.