"Are you absolutely certain you want to go with yellow?" Lucy asked for probably the seventeenth time that morning.

Emily fixed her with a pointed look. "What's wrong with yellow?"

"I don't want our son spending his formative years in a room the colour of piss," she said, just as pointed.

Emily gave a snort of laughter. "You're ridiculous, you know that, right?"

She shrugged. "You're only saying that because you know I'm right," she countered, smirking with superiority.

"Well, smarty pants, what's the correct colour, then?" Emily countered, hands on her hips in mock irritation.

Lucy leaned in, kissed her quickly, then announced. "Forest green." She brandished a swatch of paint she'd hidden behind her back.

Frowning, Emily said, "Won't that be a little dark?"

Shaking her head, Lucy said, "I'm thinking only one wall – the rest a pine-y colour."

Emily pursed her lips in thought, trying to imagine it. Then, she sighed, smiling fondly. "I hate to say it...but I think you might be right about this one." She could see that Lucy had another idea percolating by the way she bounced from foot to foot. She sighed. "Tell me..."

"I'm thinking...bear head shaped wood cut-outs," she said, letting the idea hang there in anticipation of her reaction.

"And?" she prompted.

Smiling even wider, Lucy explained, "Two big ones, with the words: Mama Bear painted on them, a medium sized one for Declan, two smaller ones with the girls' names on them, and an itty bitty one with the baby's name."

Emily paused, knowing that the lack of immediate reaction would make her squirm. At length, though, she let her smile burst forth. "I love it," she murmured. She slung an arm around Lucy's hips, pulling her into her side so she could kiss her temple.


It wasn't until later that day – after they'd sent the girls with Declan to the Smithsonian to keep them out of trouble – as they stared down the expanse of bedroom waiting to be painted, that Emily announced, almost apropos of nothing, "Of course, first we would need to actually agree on a name."

They had both agreed that, while the ballet-themed names were cute...it didn't work quite as well for a son. And that had been the last time they'd agreed on anything name related. Lucy tended to like – what Emily termed – 'hippy names', while Emily favoured more traditional names.

(At one point, they'd asked the girls for their input...mostly for the sake of their own amusement, of course. Clara had said, "Frankenstein!" then burst out laughing for the next seven minutes. Aurora had thought for several moments, then suggested, "Bluey?" after her latest favourite TV show. Neither name had been a winner.)

Lucy hummed a thoughtful note. "Maybe we should consider ballet names..." she said with a shrug.

"Such as?"

She proceeded to think on the matter for so long that Emily wasn't sure she was still participating in the conversation. Eventually, she suggested, "Basilio?" She glanced over her shoulder at Emily, then added, "From Don Quixote."

It was Emily's turn to be silent as she thought. She shrugged after a moment, conceded, "I don't hate it..."

For the moment, Lucy took the win.


"Hey, so... I have a weird question," Declan said around a mouthful of pizza. He was perched on a stool at the kitchen island, watching Emily almost warily as he worked up the courage to say what was on his mind. He wasn't normally so timid around her, but you could never quite erase the childhood trauma he'd been through...

"Shoot," Emily said over her shoulder from where she was wrestling Aurora into her high chair. (Strictly speaking, she didn't necessarily need to be in a high chair anymore, but she was liable to run off at a moment's notice and make an ungodly mess, so in a high chair she would remain.)

He paused, finished chewing. Then, "What would you think about, maybe...letting me pick the baby's middle name?" His words became smaller, meeker as he spoke until they were almost nothing at all. He offered a faint smile as if to soften the blow of his words.

Before Emily could answer, Lucy came sweeping into the room with Clara under her arm, squealing like a little piglet. "That depends."

"On what?" he queried.

Lucy plopped Clara into a seat at the table and placed a slice of pizza in front of her. (Clara proceeded to pick the pepperoni slices off it – not because she disliked them, but because she liked to save them to the end. "Clara, eat like a lady!" Emily scolded on a sigh.) "On whether you're a nerd like Emily and plan to suggest something like Frodo..."

He shrunk in on himself a little. "Oh..."

Seeming to sense his sudden shyness, Lucy said, "I'm kidding! Tell us your suggestion." She offered him a comforting smile to soothe his nerves.

He glanced from Lucy to Emily who nodded reassuringly, then took a breath to bolster his nerves. "Well, when I was little, I remember Louise telling me the story of Finn MacCool," he explained. "He was a warrior who is remembered for his wisdom and generosity..." He shrugged, suddenly timid. "I guess I want my brother to know that you can be a warrior and still be a good man." He didn't say the words, 'unlike my father', but they hung in the air unspoken anyway.

Several moments of heavy silence followed as the two women let his meaning sink in. They shared a glance, a silent conversation, eyes full of awe for the incredible person Declan had grown up to be, for the reassurance that Clara, too, would grow up the same. (The silence was broken quickly by Clara hollering, "MORE PIZZA," at the top of her lungs. Lucy sighed exasperatedly, Emily just laughed quietly.)

Then, wordlessly, Emily moved to wrap Declan in a fierce embrace. "You're a good man, Declan," she murmured against the top of his head. "I'm so proud of you."