AN: little regalbeliever edit (not mine) above to punch you in the feels.

Emma and Henry walk in silence until they reach the apartment. Emma has a sour feeling in her stomach and Henry seems weirdly sullen, something she can't really place. They go up the elevator, walk down the halls to the room in practiced strides; everything feels so familiar about this, but everything is so changed. They reach the door, and Henry frowns while reaching deep into his jean pocket, rustling around in there for the key. Emma's struck randomly at how he's a clear picture of an adult in that moment, but she tries her best to brush it off. He produces the key, arm outstretched to unlock the door, when he stops and turns back to her slowly.

"What?" Emma asks, toying with the fringed hem of her T-shirt. She's afraid she knows what this conversation will be about, and wishes she could cower behind her hair, if she hadn't tied it in a sloppy bun on top of her head.

"Don't pull something like that again." He deadpans, and it almost sounds like a command. She fights the strong desire to look away and pulls her eyes up to his. She knows she should have thought of Henry before she walked out, but in the moment....

"Henry, I..." She begins, but trails off, hand waving around in the air for emphasis. "I'm sorry."

He lowers his arm that was still hanging in the air. "You said you would stop running," he says, but he doesn't sound exactly mad, just stating facts as if it were the weather.

Her mouth hangs open for a moment before speaking. "Henry, I wasn't-!" She breaks off once more, scrapes at the crappy carpeting with the toe of her boot. "I did say that, didn't I?"

"You did," Henry agrees simply, voice deep and unwavering. She wonders how he can almost always be so calm. A beat passes before Henry sighs just a little, and unlocks the door.

Regina rises as they walk through the door, an unsteady hand nearly tipping over her empty glass. She's only managed to drink the half cup she'd poured herself in the time they were gone, so she hasn't even began to become fuzzy. She immediately adverts her gaze when Emma steps into the room. Henry walks in after her, brushing wavy hair out of his eyes.

"Okay. Ma, you need to eat something," he says, rummaging in the fridge for something for his blonde mother. He takes out some yogurt and grabs a banana from the counter, hands them to her, then sees the bottle on the table. He scoffs, and swipes it swiftly from Regina's reach. "Wow, are you serious?" He asks Regina, and sticks the cork back in, stashes it in the high cabinet, where Emma used to keep the alcohol because Henry had previously been too short to reach it. He smiles a little at the memory, and places it easily next to the bottle of scotch. He turns back around to see his moms looking anywhere other than at each other. He tries valiantly not to roll his eyes, and steps towards the table.

"Right so, I did originally have a little something planned for today, but.." He trails off, sticking his hands in his pockets, not sure how to word it. The air is so thick he swears he could slice through it, and suddenly he feels very much like a fifteen-year-old again who wants to retreat to his room and never return.

"Oh no, Sweetheart, of course we can do what you have planned!" Regina says it first, looking at him with as much love as she can put into a single glance. She wishes she could reach out and touch his arm, but doesn't want to overdo it.

He looks to Emma, and she's nodding enthusiastically at him, head turned entirely away from Regina. "Yeah Kid, this is still your vacation," she smiles, and inwardly grimaces at how much she must suck for ruining his time off. If she hadn't kissed Regina last night and had just let their friendship be...

Henry feels undoubtedly awkward with both mothers staring intently at him so as not to look at each other. He feels his cheeks twinge ever so softly, and backs up a little. "Okay, um, nothing much, just lunch at this pizza place." At Regina's look, he adds, "It's not like Little Caesar's, Mom, it's an Italian place. Pretty sure you can get pasta there, or salad, or something." He wishes so hard for the easy family thing they had going on back in Storybrooke, that he begins to fear that his mothers can hear him wishing, so he stops.

"Sounds great," Emma says, with that tight closed mouthed smile that she'd used on him when he was little to try to make him believe that everything was fine. He rolls his eyes this time without being able to resist.

---

Henry goes to his room without delay. He shuts the door, locks it for good measure, then flops on his old bed. He'd been more than a little surprised when he saw how enormously cramped he was in it, feet hanging off the edge, but it was still comforting. He has memories of it being home, and though that doesn't make it history, it feels real, and that's all the reassurance he needs right now.

He flops his arm over his eyes and tries not to think about what sort of hell his mothers are raising now. Hopefully they can get through the lunch they both insisted on, the rest of this day, (and God help the sleeping arrangements), then he'll just call this whole thing off. It's not "vacation" when everyone is having a shitty time. Why did he think this was going to be a good idea again?

He finds himself wanting to be back at college with his friends, Friday night, hanging out and drinking. He immediately feels a little guilty for the thought, as he shouldn't be taking his time with his moms for granted, but they sure as hell aren't making it easy for him. He sighs, then changes into a casual button down, rolling up the sleeves to his elbows to dress down the look. He digs around in his suitcase for his bomber jacket, remembering that the restaurant really cranks up the AC, then sits back down on his bed. He grabs his iPhone, unlocks it with practiced thumbs, and scrolls through his Instagram feed for about ten minutes just to kill time before he has to go out and try to fix whatever his moms messed up. He stays seated for about two more minutes, phone now safely away in his pocket, before he finally stands up and leaves the room.

Henry walks out, almost a little nervous, and sees Emma sitting at the table, fruit and yogurt still untouched, and Regina sitting on the couch in front of the blank TV, her back towards them. Henry wants to groan; sometimes he really feels like he's not the youngest one of the three. "Oh, for god's sake," he sighs, snatching away Emma's food. "Looks like you're just skipping breakfast." He seems to have started his blonde mother, as she jumps a bit, and looks at Henry with a sorrowful expression.

"Sorry, I-"

"It's fine," he cuts her off, really too tired for this. "I can't force you to take care of yourself." It comes out harsher than he means it, but can't find it in himself to really regret it. Emma looks a bit like a kicked puppy, and he stares at the back of his other mother's head. "Just tell me when you guys are ready to leave. It's in walking distance, but if you'd rather, I'll call an Uber."

Regina finally turns around and smiles that fake grin at Henry. "Whatever you'd like, sweetheart."

He successfully refrains from rolling his eyes at her, but instead snaps, "I really don't care." He knows he's acting like a teenager with an attitude problem, but both mothers competing against being more agreeable to him and having him call all the shots is driving him insane. If he'd wanted to make all his own decisions with no other input, he would have come here by himself.

Regina looks a little taken aback. She rises gracefully, and walks over to them, keeping her eyes steadily on Henry, not looking once towards Emma. "I....we could walk," she supplies, right eye twitching like she wants to glance at Emma for conformation out of habit.

Emma clears her throat and stands as well. "Yeah, Kid, I'm down with that. Wanna leave now?"

Henry stays silent, thinking this is a team decision, but no one says anything.

"Henry?" Regina prods, and Henry is teetering on the edge of Actually Losing It. He throws up his hands, eyes flicking to the ceiling before he can stop them.

"Fine! Sure." He says, voice clipped and a little above average volume, and he closes his eyes, trying to get his leveled head back. "Okay," he tries again, still with an irked tone. He pulls on his jacket, fixes the collar, flicks a strand out of his eyes, then swings open the door. He strides out without checking this his mothers are following. He stops after he's a little too ahead, and counts to ten, attempting to calm down. This was going to be an extremely trying lunch.

---

The walk to the restaurant is as awkward as Henry had imagined it would be; him walking in front of them, trying not to look behind him. His stride is seriously too long to walk beside them anymore, unless he awkwardly third-wheeled half on the grass, half on the sidewalk, having to slow his pace dramatically to match theirs, and walking slow is annoying. Plus, if he looks behind him, he'll see his mother's having an unspoken contest of who can not look at each other the longest, and he's beginning to think he should just order the plane tickets online for back home while they're still cheap. The walk is dead silent between them, or as quiet as it can be on the busy streets of New York, but Henry has literally never heard silence this loud. At last, their destination looms into view, and Henry could smile in relief that the walk is over, if he wasn't so pissed off.

"Oh-kay, we're here." He says while breathing out. He allows himself a glance over his shoulder and is unsurprised to see Emma crossing her arms, peering inside the open doors of the building, and Regina staring up at the big sign through her tinted sunglasses. Henry wants desperately to make a snide comment about their immaturity but stops himself while he's ahead. He may be twenty-one years old, but these women are still his mothers who are entirely spry enough to kick his ass into next week.

Once seated in a crammed booth, (Henry is smashed up against Emma, because of course, Regina needs her royal space) they're all trying furiously not to make eye contact with each other. Suddenly the world outside the window Henry's seated next to is extremely interesting, so much in fact that he doesn't even hear the waiter come over to receive their drink orders.

"And for you, sir?"

Henry whips his head around just in time to see Regina bristle at the fact that someone just called her little boy "sir." He sighs, splays his right hand out to rub at his temples. "A beer for me," he mumbles, then as a quick afterthought he adds a "please," because he is still Regina's boy through and through.

As soon as he leaves and Henry's ID is back in his wallet, Emma turns on him. "Wow, Kid, it's only lunch," she says, sharing a look with Regina despite herself.

"And it's only a beer. I could use some help right now." He defends, bouncing his left leg quickly. Emma slaps a hand down on his thigh to stop the movement, and is momentarily stunned at how long and lean and muscular it is. She has a vivid memory of a tiny kid on her doorstep with those irresistible chubby cheeks, and her hand twitches away. Regina's silent with an easily readable look on her face, one that Emma understands all too well. It'll never stop being weird to see her own kid order an alcoholic drink.

There's a long silence after that, one that stretches all the way until the waiter comes back with the drinks and with the question if they're ready to order. It's a welcome distraction, and Regina orders a salad that makes other mother and son roll identical green eyes simultaneously. Henry sips the foam off his glass before ordering a pizza for him and Emma to split, and for a moment, everything seems normal and easy again. Then of course, that moment leaves with the waiter.

All three occupants stay quiet for a solid four or five minutes before Henry's had enough. He slams a hand down on the table, making both women jump. "This is RIDICULOUS."

"Henry, what are you-" Regina starts in vain. This conversation was inevitable, and maybe it's best that they have in public, where no one can step too far out of line.

Henry actually laughs out loud, cutting her off. It's a loud, mirthless sound, and he even surprises himself with that. "Don't even start with that."

Emma steps in, turning fully, elbow on the table, to face him. "Henry, where is this coming from? You've been acting so....off all day." She chooses her words carefully, not wanting to set him off further. She feels like she hardly knows him at this point, but maybe that's just her being dramatic with the events of the past days.

He scoffs, and stares her down, eyebrows furrowed, mouth set in a firm line. "'Where is this coming from?' Seriously?"

Emma adverts her gaze.

"When you guys do--" he gestures wildly with his arms. "--whatever this is, it doesn't just affect you. And I know that this one is a lot worse than you both being petty, but..." He sighs, temper dropping with his hand that had been raised, and presses his fingers lightly against his closed eyes.

He's interrupted by the waiter once more, bringing the food. They arrange space on the table, and Henry shakes his head. "You know what? Let's just try to get through this one lunch without causing a scene."

---

If this were any other day in Storybrooke, a lunch date with Regina and home-from-college Henry would be an exceedingly welcome event. She'd happily set down her papers at the station and come on over in the old Bug whose engine now makes a slightly suspicious rattling noise, and order a chocolate shake for Henry, who most likely has grown out of that, but will drink most of it to please his blonde mother.

But now she's unlocking the door to the apartment after a very trying, awkward lunch in New York, and Emma has recently banged Regina, who banged her in return, then turned her down respectively, and they're all stuck on this vacation together. Emma wants to sob, scream, or both. Emma opens the door after a couple tries with shaking hands, and Henry strides in past her, down the hall, and into his room, leaving his mothers alone.

There's a moment of silence, then Emma sighs, turns on Regina, and stuffs her hands into her too-small pockets, and seriously, why do they make women's pockets so goddamn tiny? "Well, I hope you enjoyed that,"

Regina takes a step back, mouth dropping a bit. "Enjoyed that? Excuse me?" She's obviously on the verge of Feeling Offended, and Emma knows she's picking a fight, but she really doesn't care.

"Well, because you caused this, and all that," she says, in mocking casualty, and hell, of course Emma's trying to fight. She needs to feel something with Regina, and she doesn't know how else. They've always known how to tear each other apart since day one, and if that's what they have to refer back to, so be it.

"I caused this? Well, sorry to disappoint, Miss Swan," she says through a humorless laugh. "I'm afraid I'm not the one who kissed you."

Emma's mouth gapes. "Oh, so you're just going to act like you weren't begging me last night? We're going to pretend that you didn't tell me that this was okay, because I asked, and that you 'Always wanted to see what was underneath the Sheriff's clothing'?"

Regina's cheeks flush at the mention of what's staining the rough sheets of Emma's bed. "I thought I told you that we were to never speak of that again."

Emma frowns and crosses her arms. "Really? Cause you mentioned it first."

Regina's squeezes her fists, fingers splaying then curling again, yearning for the touch of her magic.

Emma laughs mockingly, and steps back, throws her hands up. "What are you gonna do? Pull my heart out of my chest? In case you forgot, Your Majesty, we're in New York. This is my place, this is the house where Henry is my son." Emma knows she's terribly out of line, she really hadn't meant that at all, but she's off the edge. Her head is pounding in anger, and Regina's face blanches, then turns red.

She takes one menacing step forward, points at her with a trembling finger. "You....BITCH."

"Funny, that's not what you called me last night." Emma barely gets the words out before a loud SMACK! echoes throughout the small hallway, and Emma's face is throbbing horribly. She brings her own hand up to gingerly touch the tender skin, and hisses in pain. She turns on Regina, ready to fight back, but the brunette is already stalking into the bedroom. She follows Regina in, passes a mirror and sees a purple bruise already starting to form. In the back of her mind, she knows she deserved that, but the forefront of her mind is occupied with how furious she is with the other woman, and not for the slap.

She brings her attention to the accused, who is throwing things into her suitcase.

Emma groans. "What are you doing?!"

Regina doesn't bother to look up. "I would return to Storybrooke immediately if it weren't for Henry. I will be at a hotel if Henry needs me. I will text him the location. Feel free to entirely un-involve yourself. As of today, our only connection is Henry. Good day, Miss Swan." She says using a tone Emma hasn't heard her use since before the curse broke, and this is even colder. She slams her suitcase shut, grabs her phone, and brushes past Emma on her way out. A moment later, the apartment door slams. Emma closes her eyes and rubs her hand across the side of her face that isn't stinging.

What the hell is she going to tell Henry?

AN: sorry it took so long to update! School and all that...hope you still enjoyed!