Big Brother - Ch. 2: Names

Reposting because my little deelie-bobs didn't show a separation between scenes and that bugged me. Thanks so much for the reviews!

Her brother, Emma found, was a bundle of noise and energy. He seemed to have an overwhelming desire to be heard by the entire town. Emma winced as she heard him bellow again. Or the entire state.

"Mama! I can't find my shoes!"

"Which shoes?" returned Snow calmly.

"My real shoes, the ones the cobbler made special for me!"

"Your boots are in the back closet behind your Papa's winter clothes!"

"I can't see them! They're not here! They're…," he said with a bit of a wail. "Oh, here they are," his voice changed to its calmer state.

By the door, David laughed. Henry stood beside him, impatiently waiting for his little uncle to join them. They looked at one another and rolled their eyes.

"I don't know what you're laughing at," said Snow to David, turning her back to the sink where she was washing dishes. "You couldn't find your coat the other day." She turned her attention to Henry. "And don't even get me started on what you've lost." Both of them instantly decided there was something better to look at.

Emma swallowed a chuckle from her place at the kitchen table, before Mary Margaret could focus her attention on her.

Emma had seen it in movies, or television shows. The mom seemed to know automatically where everything in the house was located. She thought that was just a TV thing. In Mary Margaret's case it was utterly true. Henry's coat? Hung on the bathroom hook. David's holster? Slung on the bed frame. Ashton's socks? Under the couch, by his sketchbook, Henry's homework, and a mysterious candy bar. While the boys in the family seemed to take it for granted that Mary Margaret would know these things, Emma was determined to be independent. That was until last week when she came back inside the apartment after forgetting what she needed and began wandering the small space, in hopes that she would a.) remember what she was looking for and b.) remember where that mysterious object would be located. He face pinked when Mary Margaret went sailing by, thrust her gloves into her hands and proceeded to wrap a scarf around Henry's throat. Magic? Emma was truly thinking this might be the case. Whatever it was, it made her a fantastic mother, grandmother, and wife.

Ashton rushed down the stairs. "Mama still has to do my hair," he panted.

"I'll do it," David said, trying to rescue his wife from having to tear herself away from the dishes.

"Noooo," Ashton said, trying to keep the hairbrush out of his father's reach. "It has to be Mama. She's the one who can deal with curls."

David held his hands up in mock surrender as his son trotted over to his mother with hairbrush in hand.

Applying water and mom magic, Snow tamed the curls so they sat neatly on Ashton's head. That would change of course, the instant he stepped outside. But for five minutes, his hair would look neat. "There you go, baby."

Ashton straightened up, and adjusted the tiny vest he had insisted on. "Like Papa?" he inquired eagerly.

Snow brushed the tip of his nose with her finger. "Just like."

By the door, David grinned and put a hand on Henry's shoulder. "C'mon, Ash! We won't have enough time to play if you don't get going!" said Henry.

"Kisses Mama," Ashton said, turning his face up expectantly. Snow leaned down and gave him two quick kisses.

Ashton then ran over to Emma. "Kisses Emmy," he demanded.

Emma found out early, that her family was prone to physical affection. They used touch as a cornerstone to gauge emotion, offer comfort, relieve sadness, and show love. Where she was still somewhat uncomfortable with David and Mary Margaret (had gone backwards actually with Mary Margaret after finding out she was her mother), she was unable to resist either her son or her brother. She brushed her lips against his cheek. "Bye."

Ashton ran to his father who picked him up and threw him into the air. "Onward men!" David shouted.

Henry hauled the three swords over his shoulder and waved. "Bye, mom. Bye, Gramma!"

When the door had closed behind them, Snow cleared her throat softly. "I can talk to Ashton."

"About what?" Emma turned her gaze to her mother.

"About all of the kissing…and the name."

"Wh-, I don't,"

"You make a face, when he calls you Emmy."

Emma instantly felt guilty. "I don't mean too. It's just…weird." She'd never had a nickname. Refused to have one actually. When people called her "Em" she would state flatly "my name is Em-ma". One person had tried to call her Emmy. "Emmy and Emma have the same amount of syllables" she had sniped. "Can't you get the right ones?" She had been a bit of a snot about it really. When she was older, she had realized the reason for her intransigence. She had two things from her "real family", her blanket and her name. Even with all the doubts and hurt, she had been unwilling to give up either.

"It's our fault really," said Mary Margaret, coming to sit beside her. "We were sure you were going to be a girl and we picked out your name early on in my pregnancy. When we talked about you to him, we'd say Emma this and Emma that."

"Yeah?" Emma knew that Mary Margaret was her mother but it still amazed her to think that this woman had carried her for nine months. Had planned for her, dreamt of her, talked about her.

"Of course," Mary Margaret lay her hand gently over Emma's. "Ash started calling you Emmy. Like 'I think Emmy would like stars in her nursery'. Or 'I think Emmy would like chicken for supper'. We just started calling you that too. Well that and…" She trailed off, looking away from her daughter.

Emma squeezed her mother's hand. "What else did you call me?" she asked, trying not to sound too curious.

"Well, baby of course." Mary Margaret suddenly seemed shy, but her fingers seemed to rise of their own accord to brush Emma's hair behind her ear.

Emma's heart constricted a little. Right, she had been someone's baby. Snow and David's baby. She blushed, both touched and uncomfortable. "He can call me Emmy. I mean, I don't care."

Snow gave her a gentle smile.

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Names were interesting. Henry was always Henry, unless he was "kid". Ashton was either Ashton, Ash, or to his parents "little man" or "mansie". Emma tried calling him "little man" once.

He had protested instantly. "I'm your big brother, you can't call me that," he said firmly.

"Kid?" Emma tried.

"That's what you call Henry. Besides I'm your…"

"Big brother. Yeah, I get it. But I'm not going to call you by your name all the time," Emma sighed.

"Why not?"

"I just…don't," she shrugged. "Kiddo? Bud? Tiger?" she tried.

Ashton made a face. "Those are little kid names, and I'm your b-"

"I know what you are," interrupted Emma. "Fine. I'll just call you Bubba then," she smirked, expecting an instant protest.

Ashton looked thoughtful. "That's what you call brothers?" he asked.

"That's what some people call their brothers," Emma replied honestly.

Ashton nodded his head firmly. "Okay. You can call me Bubba. Or my actual name. That would work too."

Emma smirked. Bubba. Mary Margaret was going to love this.

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"Bubba?!" Mary Margaret said incredulously. "You're calling my son, Bubba?"

"I'm calling my brother, Bubba," said Emma gravely, trying not to burst out laughing. Mary Margaret was amazing about a lot of things, and almost always on an even keel. But clearly her "princess" genes were causing some consternation.

David was laughing quietly by the refrigerator ever since Ashton had sped out of the room shouting "bye Emmy!" and she had shouted out "bye, Bubba!"

Mary Margaret speared him with a glare and returned it to Emma, trying to modulate her tone. "Emma, Ashton is a…prince. He is someone the other children look up to. He can't be called…Bubba!"

David waved his hands weakly from his place on the floor. "Stop. I can't breath."

"If you can't breath, you shouldn't be talking," Mary Margaret warned.

David picked himself up from the floor and walked over to his wife, encircling her from behind with his arms. "It's just a nickname, love. It's sweet. Emma chose it for her brother."

Mary Margaret bit her lip, looking at Emma anxiously, obviously afraid she was breaking this fragile bond between the siblings.

Emma felt a little bad for teasing her mother, but damn, it was a lot of fun.

"I suppose…it's a little cute," said Mary Margaret, doubt lacing every word. "Maybe if you only use it at home, then?" she said the last part hopefully.

Emma shook her head with mock-regret. "I'll try…"

David winked at her over his wife's shoulder, eyes sparkling with matching mischief.

The next week, Emma had to bite her tongue when every so often, Mary Margaret would look at her son, whisper "Bubba", and shake her head.

Priceless.