Henry stays out as long as he can. He's made it through two milkshakes, a burger and three plates of fries by the time Granny raises her eyebrows at him and makes noises that suggest she would like to close up and he should go elsewhere.
He's hesitant about going back home – to either home – because almost every possibility hints at the potential for awkwardness. When she'd walked into Ma's house, Mom had the kind of look in her eyes that meant they'd either be declaring their undying love for one another, or Storybrooke would be going up in flames any minute now. Possibly both. Either way, he doesn't want to risk walking in on something that's likely to scar him for life.
He runs into some old friends from high school; they wind up at the Rabbit Hole and he manages to kill a few hours that way. They stay until closing, when the bartender finally kicks them out. Paige is dropping hints and for a moment he considers picking them up, but he thinks that decisions like this maybe shouldn't be made after drinking enough rotgut to embalm a corpse.
Eventually, he stumbles home, back to 108 Mifflin, and he smiles when he notices that Mom's car is not in the drive.
He wakes up, tired and more than a little hungover, to full daylight beaming in through the curtains. He stumbles downstairs in search of food and coffee and pauses in the doorway as he takes in the sight in front of him.
His mothers are standing close, so close, their foreheads pressed together. And they're smiling, smiling like nothing else matters. Ma brings her hand up to smooth it across Mom's cheek and she leans into the touch.
He tries to beat a silent retreat, leave them to this moment that should be all theirs, but in his haste, he bumps a side table and it tips over and its contents hit the floor with a loud clatter.
"Henry?" Mom calls out, and he thinks about ignoring her. He turns, though, and they're both looking at him through the doorway.
Ma rolls her eyes at him and says, "You can come in, kid. It's your house."
He sighs and walks into the kitchen. Maybe he should have taken Paige's hint about rekindling old flames, instead of playing dumb.
He pours himself some cereal and Mom holds out a mug of coffee, which he accepts gratefully. And he watches them. Watches the way that they're never far apart and when they are, they're constantly reaching out, seeking out brief, casual contact as if to reassure themselves that the other one is still there.
He smiles, because it seems like, finally, everything is right with the world. For the first time in a long while, he's content sitting in Storybrooke, an ordinary man surrounded by extraordinary people. For once, he's glad he doesn't have magic, because if he did, he wouldn't be watching the two most important people in his life finally finding some of the happiness they deserve.
He gets up and rinses out his bowl and when he turns, they're holding hands and gazing at each other. He walks over and slings an arm around both of them, pressing a quick kiss to each of their cheeks.
He steps back and says, "I'm glad you two finally found each other," and walks out of the kitchen leaving them to it.