Not fighting Declan was... difficult. His brother was just as stubborn and angry inside as he was. Yet, Adam asked so quietly, and despite what the other man thought, Ronan was perhaps even weaker to anything he might request now than he was in their childhood.
So after a very long moment of quiet he gave a single sharp nod. If Adam was there, if Adam asked, he wouldn't fight Declan.
Wordlessly, he lead the way to his brother's office. This time Declan wasn't entertaining a female guest because he had been expecting Ronan. The older brother gestured for the younger to sit, and gave Adam a look that quite clearly said: You stand in the corner and make no noise.
After one last inscrutable look at Adam, Ronan sat. Declan sat. They looked at each other for a good while, sizing one another up, before Declan broke out his notebook.
"I'm sure you have your suspicions as to what we need to discuss," he began, flipping through some well inked pages. "First, as promised—dad left you a lot of his jewelry, books, maps, and personal items. They've been packed up for some time now. I'll arrange to have them sent to your... barn." Declan wrinkled his nose and Ronan remained quiet, staring at his brother without blinking. "As you know, the country estate is ready for you to inherit. I'd like you to do that as soon as possible. Someone needs to go manage it and I've got my hands full, here."
"Which leads me to some other points. You're getting old now, Ronan. It's time for you to marry, settle down, and start getting serious. I have a few ladies in mind—you can meet them and pick whichever one you like best, it doesn't really matter. Then, we—"
"I can't," Ronan cut in, sounding tired.
Declan blinked, confused, "Can't what?"
"Get married." Ronan frowned, the lines in his brow particularly pronounced.
Declan stared. "And just why not? That's what we do, Ronan."
Ronan resisted the urge to point out that Declan was still very much not married, even if he was technically courting a woman named Ashley, a well-bred young lady from a very good family. "I can't marry a woman," Ronan said, sitting up, "because I—"
"Don't," said Declan.
"—like men," Ronan finished.
Declan's face reddened in displeasure. "That. Has. Nothing to do with marriage. If you can't help your... indiscretions, certain things can be kept under wraps. But you have to put on a public face. What about children? You have to—"
"I can't," Ronan said again, leaning back in his chair. "I wouldn't be able to. I can't. I'm not a fucking liar, Declan. I'm not gonna live my life like that. I'm not going to join in on whatever schemes you're cooking up, either. I won't be your right hand man. I don't even really want the fucking estate. Maybe I'll take that. The rest? You can shove..." He paused, because Adam had asked him not to fight, "You can forget. I don't know everything I want, but. It's not that. I don't think so."
Declan stood and walked around the desk, slammed his hand on it once he was in front of Ronan, voice rising, "You can and you will. You've already fucked up, Ronan! Just do as I say. If you can do that—you won't have to think about anything. This is what dad would want. Are you just going to continue being a disgrace?"
"Yes," Ronan said, flatly.
Declan struck him across the face with the back of his hand. It made a magnificent noise, because his brother had not restrained himself. Within seconds Ronan's cheek was bright red and he was staring at Declan with barely restrained heat.
"Get the fuck out of my office," Declan said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, "and come back when you can be reasonable."
Ronan's fingers curled into his fist. Normally he would strike his brother back—which would escalate it all into an outright boxing match. But instead he knocked his knuckles gently on the arm of the chair and stood, making his way out of the office without a word.
no subject
Not fighting Declan was... difficult. His brother was just as stubborn and angry inside as he was. Yet, Adam asked so quietly, and despite what the other man thought, Ronan was perhaps even weaker to anything he might request now than he was in their childhood.
So after a very long moment of quiet he gave a single sharp nod. If Adam was there, if Adam asked, he wouldn't fight Declan.
Wordlessly, he lead the way to his brother's office. This time Declan wasn't entertaining a female guest because he had been expecting Ronan. The older brother gestured for the younger to sit, and gave Adam a look that quite clearly said: You stand in the corner and make no noise.
After one last inscrutable look at Adam, Ronan sat. Declan sat. They looked at each other for a good while, sizing one another up, before Declan broke out his notebook.
"I'm sure you have your suspicions as to what we need to discuss," he began, flipping through some well inked pages. "First, as promised—dad left you a lot of his jewelry, books, maps, and personal items. They've been packed up for some time now. I'll arrange to have them sent to your... barn." Declan wrinkled his nose and Ronan remained quiet, staring at his brother without blinking. "As you know, the country estate is ready for you to inherit. I'd like you to do that as soon as possible. Someone needs to go manage it and I've got my hands full, here."
"Which leads me to some other points. You're getting old now, Ronan. It's time for you to marry, settle down, and start getting serious. I have a few ladies in mind—you can meet them and pick whichever one you like best, it doesn't really matter. Then, we—"
"I can't," Ronan cut in, sounding tired.
Declan blinked, confused, "Can't what?"
"Get married." Ronan frowned, the lines in his brow particularly pronounced.
Declan stared. "And just why not? That's what we do, Ronan."
Ronan resisted the urge to point out that Declan was still very much not married, even if he was technically courting a woman named Ashley, a well-bred young lady from a very good family. "I can't marry a woman," Ronan said, sitting up, "because I—"
"Don't," said Declan.
"—like men," Ronan finished.
Declan's face reddened in displeasure. "That. Has. Nothing to do with marriage. If you can't help your... indiscretions, certain things can be kept under wraps. But you have to put on a public face. What about children? You have to—"
"I can't," Ronan said again, leaning back in his chair. "I wouldn't be able to. I can't. I'm not a fucking liar, Declan. I'm not gonna live my life like that. I'm not going to join in on whatever schemes you're cooking up, either. I won't be your right hand man. I don't even really want the fucking estate. Maybe I'll take that. The rest? You can shove..." He paused, because Adam had asked him not to fight, "You can forget. I don't know everything I want, but. It's not that. I don't think so."
Declan stood and walked around the desk, slammed his hand on it once he was in front of Ronan, voice rising, "You can and you will. You've already fucked up, Ronan! Just do as I say. If you can do that—you won't have to think about anything. This is what dad would want. Are you just going to continue being a disgrace?"
"Yes," Ronan said, flatly.
Declan struck him across the face with the back of his hand. It made a magnificent noise, because his brother had not restrained himself. Within seconds Ronan's cheek was bright red and he was staring at Declan with barely restrained heat.
"Get the fuck out of my office," Declan said, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, "and come back when you can be reasonable."
Ronan's fingers curled into his fist. Normally he would strike his brother back—which would escalate it all into an outright boxing match. But instead he knocked his knuckles gently on the arm of the chair and stood, making his way out of the office without a word.