Henry turned on the stove and broke an egg into the skillet. Regina's kitchen had always been stocked with skillets of every possible size, but his grandfather's kitchen only had one. He liked it better that way; it was easier to pick which one to use. After a few minutes, he pulled the half-melted spatula out of a drawer and flipped his egg over. He liked eggs. They were simple and delicious. He was almost ready to dump his golden, over-easy creation onto a plate when he heard a key turn in the door of the apartment.
Henry stopped moving and let a grin spread across his face as his grandfather's tall frame filled the doorway. "Hey, kid, what are you cooking?"
"Eggs. You want some?" Henry was hoping for a yes. He was always hoping for a yes.
"Sure," and his grandfather grinned a grin that exactly matched his own. They didn't really look alike in any other way, but they had their smiles in common. "You know, you don't have to cook. We can always go to the Diner."
"I know," said Henry, breaking two eggs and turning the heat just right to scramble them, since that was what his grandfather liked best.
If he'd left it up to the older man, they would have eaten every meal at Granny's Diner. That was a far cry from the queen's house, where every meal had been handcrafted to angry perfection. She hadn't even wanted him to set foot in Granny's. It was nice to be able to go there whenever he wanted now, but he preferred cooking at home. It was the one thing he could do that his grandfather couldn't, the one way he could show how grateful he was.
They ate together in silence, the little boy and the grandfather who was barely old enough to be his dad. Henry knew that, but he didn't care. When you're a kid, everybody's older than you, and a few years here and there don't really matter.
"Did you do your homework?"
"Yeah, Grandpa," he said, looking down at his plate. He hadn't done it. It was math homework, which he hated.
"You sure about that?" At times like this, Henry remembered that his grandfather was really Prince Charming, hero and leader of Storybrooke, instead of a doddering grandparent who would have taken anything he said as gospel truth.
"I started it," Henry revised truthfully, "but I don't really get it."
"Maybe I can help."