A/N: Story takes place years after the curse has broken. Though live has gone back to normal in SB, and none of the stuff on the show has happened. No Pan, no Hook, etc. Regina is still Mayor, Emma is still Sheriff, and Henry is a bratty 14 (going on 15?) teenager.

The story is written from Henry's PoV and for convenience's sake, I refer to Emma by her name. That's not to say he doesn't think of them both of his mothers, it's just a workaround because of the way the story is written.

Story title taken from David Bowie's song: 'let's dance' (you'll understand why by the end of the story)

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"Not a fan of David Bowie, Madam Mayor?"

He looks up from the blob of food he just placed into his napkin to see his mother glaring back at Emma with an unimpressed look. Though he can tell, from having watched their conversations in the past, it is more for show than anything.

"Just because I'm not out there," his mother mutters while tilting her head towards where his grandparents are dancing, awkwardly, "making an embarrassment out of myself, does not mean I dislike the song."

"Uh huh," Emma responds by grinning and Henry has seen that look far too often to know his other mother was up to no good. "Say kid, your mom a good dancer?"

"Uhm.." he stammers, suddenly feeling all too much like a deer in the headlights. He looks from the potential risk of food poisoning in his hand to his mothers and then back down again. Decides to take a bite just to stall for time, only to spit it right back out again a second later.

"Henry!"

He thinks they've been spending way too much time together lately if they even sound alike when they scold him for having bad manners.

"Sorry? It's really gross." He almost lets it slip that it was even worse than some of Emma's earliest cooking, but thankfully stops himself just in time. There is no doubt in his mind the x-box controller would be hidden for the next few weeks as punishment.

"To answer your question, dear," his mom speaks up and Henry lets out a breath in relief as the attention shifts away from him again. "I'm an excellent dancer. Though perhaps I could ask you the same question. It would appear that you've been avoiding the dance floor for most of the night."

"That's mostly because these heels are new and being the idiot I am, I thought wearing them tonight would be a great idea."

"Ah. I was wondering why it seemed you had to go to the bathroom every time you shuffled past me."

"Oh, haha, funny."

He watches the back and forward for a moment, unsure of whether to make himself scarce or not. The whole event was boring anyway, even the food was horrible. There had been a few pastries, or what he assumes were pastries, that looked as if they would walk off the table the moment he turned his back on them. He had found a few cheese sticks that were edible at least, after he had ditched a salad under a potted plant because he couldn't find anywhere else to dispose of it. His mothers had been too busy bickering, much like they were now, to notice him discreetly getting rid of the foul-smelling dish, and he figured someone would find it eventually anyway.

"So how about showing us some of your slick dance moves then, Madam Mayor?"

Henry tilts his head and watches on with veiled interest as his mother scratches a little at her cheek and seems to avoid eye contact with Emma.

"No."

"No?"

"I would much prefer something slower to dance to."

"Oh really? Because that can be arranged."

And is it him or does his mom look panicked for a split second. Her eyes flick from the band that's playing to Emma and her lips purse into a thin line. Yeah, he thinks it's panic and he wonders why, because he knows his mother wasn't lying about being an excellent dancer. He recalls, his eyes becoming unfocused for a moment as he remembers-all too well how when he was little, she had played all kinds of music and danced with him through the living room. She had even danced much like his grandparents are dancing right now, although his mom's movements had been fluid, graceful even, compared to the...the..he isn't sure what the hell his grandparents are doing actually. Henry cringes, it can't exactly be called dancing, can it?

Emma is already walking over to where the band is playing however and the panicked look on his mother's face returns. Then she turns to him and he freezes in place. Because he can see her eyes flick from him to the large clock that hangs on the wall and back again. And he knows his mother well enough that the next thing she'll suggest is for them to go home because it's running late. Which it was, but Henry thinks that's besides the point. Even though he wouldn't oppose the idea, since the whole so-called grand re-opening of the City Hall was boring him to tears. Still besides the point. He's all too curious about what brought on the panic on his mother's face. Though he thinks he knows.

He only wonders if his mothers do too.

So he mutters some excuse about needing to go to the bathroom, before his mother can even finish her sentence about going home. And he does walk into that general direction, while also glancing towards his watch and wondering how long he could stay away before they would organize a search party.

Secretly he hopes that when he returns they'll be dancing together.

He actually walks past the toilets and some rooms which he knows are still under construction and that's when he smells it. It instantly reminds him of that day where his mother had hobbled around the house and got rid of the clothes. But the house had still smelled like it for the rest of the day. It smells like that now; something acrid that wafts around his nose and burns in his throat. He smells it first, and then sees it a second later, thick grey plumes escaping from underneath one of the doors.

And though he wants to open the door, and even wants to be the one to say that he found the fire and extinguished it before it could do any serious harm, he knows deep down his mothers would be much better equipped for the task. He also takes quick note of the color of the smoke and remembers the things his mother had told him years ago. About what to do when the house was on fire.

He runs back as if his life depends on it, thankfully finding his mothers fairly quickly in the otherwise crowded room. They are standing to the side and talking agitatedly, with Emma throwing up her hands and seemingly being exasperated at something and his mother's face is a blank mask as she stares Emma down.

"Moms!" he yells out, though it wasn't loud enough to be overheard over the song that was playing. He rushes towards them, not caring for the kissing couple that he accidentally shoves into the punch bowl. It wasn't a great loss as far as he was concerned.

"Hey!" He ignores the angry yelling which follows.

"Moms! Moms! There's a fire," he gasps out frantically as he points towards the way he ran from.

He gets an incredulous "What?" followed by a confused "Henry?" and he sighs, because really sometimes he thinks they are both too similar in how dense they can be.

"There's a fire in one of the back rooms," he explains. "There's grey-black smoke coming from underneath the door."

"Okay kid," Emma mutters, her eyes darting around the room before she glances over to his mother. And he knows this look in her eyes too, the one that meant she was into full planning mode as she took control over a situation.

"Here's what you're going to do, find Granny, Ruby and my parents and tell them to evacuate the place, your mom and I are going to see if we can douse the fire, okay?"

"But.." he mutters, feeling a bit offput by not being allowed to accompany them. It is still amazing sometimes to see both of his moms perform magic, especially when they team up to accomplish something.

"Henry…" his mom says as she places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes and he sighs softly before rushing through the crowd again.

He tells his grandparents and tracks down Granny and Ruby who were standing together, eating some of the suspicious looking pastries. And before he's even able to protest it, his grandpa has already dragged him outside.

There's too much noise. From the firetrucks. The people talking. And though his grandma tries to assure him, he still worries. His eyes scan the crowd for long minutes before he finally sees them appear from the main entrance. And his expression turns from worried to joyful in a split second. Because they are laughing. They are walking together and laughing, though they both walk a little more difficult than they should and a little worry still works it way to the foreground.

"Henry," Emma mutters when she sees him and he allows himself to be hugged, despite the fact that her beautiful red dress was now stained with soot and smells cloyingly like smoke.

His mother hugs him in turn and he can see the smears on her dress as well, even though the fabric is black.

"It was a good thing you noticed it when you did, Henry," his mom murmurs and he beams at her when she ruffles through his hair. "We managed to douse it with magic." She looks over his shoulder to his grandparents then. "Though it would be good for the firemen to check if there isn't anything smoldering anywhere. I think it would be wise to do a full investigation as well, I'm not entirely convinced this was an accident."

"Me neither," Emma responds and then she bumps her fist against his and he grins at her. "Good thinking kid."

"At least no one got injured."

"Yeah," his grandpa says while turning towards his grandma. "I guess we'll have to have a do-over on this though. And to think it only just got renovated."

He doesn't listen to whatever else they were saying, instead he glances over to his mom, not sure of what might've brought on the expression of disgust on her face.

"I suppose I can put these into the trash," she mutters as she dangles a pair of water-logged high heels from her fingers and he can't suppress a chuckle in response. Mainly because of the way Emma is trying, though failing, to stop herself from laughing at his mother's expense. He knows they had a whole discussion going over height differences before and Emma hadn't been exactly amused when his mother had walked into the Townhall earlier that evening on the highest heels she had apparently been able to find.

"You want a ride home? My heels are ruined as well but at least I got a pairy of comfy shoes in the patrol car."

"You didn't drive here with your own car?" He wonders out loud. Stifling a yawn behind his hand he hopes his mom will accept the offer. He knows she had a long day at the office before they had rushed through dinner and made their way to the party.

"It is kind of busted, I parked it at the mechanic and I was running out of time so I took the patrol car."

Emma gives his mother a sheepish look at that and he glances from one to the other before rolling his eyes. Behind him he can hear his grandpa clear his throat and he chuckles in response.

"Fine," his mom huffs.

"Cool," he mutters, which gets him a raised eyebrow, though he shrugs in response and quickly makes his way to the patrol car. "You both stink by the way," he comments when they arrive, scrunching up his nose for emphasis.

"Love you too, kid."

The ride home is pretty quick and though his mom is fairly quiet, she does laugh when Emma cracks a joke or two.

"That wasn't even that funny," he grumbles. It's bad enough they made him sit in the back as far as he's concerned, he didn't need to be subjected to bad jokes as well.

He gets a glare over a shoulder, followed by a flick across his nose and he swats Emma back on the shoulder in response. "Seriously though," he mutters," I could find better jokes by googling them."

"Yeah yeah, I got the hint loud and clear, least I got your mom laughing though."

She smiles and looks over at his mom then. And he wonders. Because suddenly the expression on her face shifts to completely serious and she flicks her eyes back at the road again. The car goes silent and he's left wondering what the hell happened there.

Though thankfully they pull over in front of the house right then and he makes his way out of the car in a hurry. Emma also steps out of the car and he can see her exchange another look with his mom.

"You should come in for a moment," his mother suggests. "At least get washed up before you head out again."

"It's fine I can…" A pause during which he wonders if he should just head inside by himself. That or grab both of them by the arms and pull them towards the house. It was closing in on summer, so it wasn't as if it was cold outside, even when it was already this close to midnight, but honestly this was getting ridiculous as far as he was concerned.

"Ah fine," Emma says with a shrug as she slams the car door shut. "I could use a glass of water as well," she adds after coughing a little.

"You okay, ma?" He asks a tinge concerned. Even though he knows they had both been checked by the paramedics, that cough sounded disturbing to his ears.

"Yeah I'm fine, just some irritation of the airways I guess."

He pours some glasses of water for them all, while his mom grabs a washcloth for Emma and they stand around the dining table talking a little about the events that night. It isn't until he yawns again that his mother checks her watch and shoots him a pointed look that knows can only mean one thing. It's high time for him to head to bed.

"Goodnight kid, cya in the morning okay? We're still on for breakfast right? Though I suppose can schedule it an hour or two later if that's okay by your mother."

"That'll be fine dear."

"You're welcome to come along too if you want?"

He wonders how his mother would answer, though when the silence stretches on he sighs under his breath before moving up the stairs. There is a muffled "I might," drifting upwards when he arrives at his bedroom and he smiles at the thought of having breakfast with both of his mothers. They had been having dinner together occasionally these past few months, and he knows they had become more friendly, but for some reason when things like this came up they were still tip-toeing around each other.

After taking a shower and getting ready for bed, he stands in the hallway for a moment, listening for any movement downstairs. Though he doesn't hear anything, and he wonders if he had missed the front door closing and Emma's departing while he had been in the shower. It's not until he walks towards the open window and decides to close it for the night that he hears the sounds.

They come from somewhere in the garden, though it's too dark outside for him to see much and there wasn't much of it visible from his room either. But he knows there's laughter. Soft and melodic, carried by the wind and he smiles again and keeps listening. He swears he hears the mentioning of a promised dance, but he can't quite make out the response to that.

Eventually it gets quiet and curiosity gets the better of him. He slowly makes his way down the stairs, cringing at the third step from the top that creaks as it always does. Though he muses they would be in the garden anyway and likely can't hear it. Still he waits for a second or two, before making the rest of the way downstairs

Moving past the dinner room and towards the door that leads to the garden, he sees that it's slightly open. There are shadows moving across the walls and he can spy the lights being on in the garden.

He takes another few steps and then halts. Because he sees them then. Moving around the garden and illuminated ever so slightly by the lights. They are pressed close together, swaying slowly to music that isn't there and he swallows at the sight.

He watches them for a few quiet seconds more before making his way back up the stairs again, a feeling of warmth spreading through his chest and the biggest smile on his face.

He hadn't been sure of it before, at the party, in a crowded room and watching the panicked look painted across his mother's face. He had wondered if they knew.

He thinks they do now.