Sorry for the delay-applying to college is a bitch. Plus, Season 5 is here, so YEAH. And I have YouTubers who require a reaction video, so I was occupied.

Fear not, though! I have found my flow again, so I am no longer struggling with the cursed writer's block!

As always, review, my darlings. And you shall all get a magical hug.

Henry sleepily stumbled downstairs, rubbing his eyes. There was the familiar jumble of morning noises: the coffee brewing, plates clattering, Robin's and Roland's voices overlapping as Regina sizzled something in a pan. Henry made his way into the kitchen, vaguely registering that Regina had already turned on the Thanksgiving Day Parade.

"Hey, Mom," he yawned, giving her a side-hug. "Hey, Robin."

"Morning, Henry," Robin said, trying to coax Roland into eating a piece of toast.

"Hey, buddy."

Henry turned around in surprise to see Neal grinning at him from the counter, a cup of coffee in his hand. "Hey," he said, blinking a few times. "You're here early."

"Regina makes better coffee than Granny's," Neal explained, taking a sip.

Henry made a noise of agreement as he poured himself a cup. He took a minute to take a few sips and wake up a little more before pulling out a chair and sitting down.

Roland turned his head, his finger swirling around his mouth. Henry made a face, looking at the greasy toast residue around his lips. Roland blinked at him a few times, his forehead creasing.

"Henwy?"

"What?"

"Cookie?"

"I don't have any."

"Cookie?"

"I don't have any."

"Cookie?"

"Oh, my God. Do we have to take him with us tonight?"

Robin took Roland's face in one hand to wipe it clean. "Well, I can't leave him at home, can I?"

"Why not?" Henry muttered into his cup.

"Speaking of tonight," Regina said, pulling out the seat next to Henry. "We need to lay down some ground rules."

"What, for me?" Henry looked at her in surprise. "What am I going to do?"

"I don't know. You're kind of a wild card lately." Regina looked at him sternly. "I know you're having a bout of teenage angst with Emma."

Henry opened his mouth to explain, but Regina held up her hand.

"I don't know everything. I don't want to know everything, because that's between you and Emma. But I also don't want tonight to turn into a big dramatic thing with slamming doors and angry-teenager-expressions, okay? Not if we're at someone else's house. I don't care what you do at David and Snow's place: you can keep them up all night with screaming and shouting, you can slam as many doors as you want. But tonight, if you feel like you're going to lose your temper—" Regina raised her eyebrows, looking at him intently—"don't. Do you understand?"

Henry nodded silently. Regina gave him a nod of approval and went back to her coffee.

"Actually, I do have some questions, if you don't mind," Robin said, giving up on trying to clean Roland's face. "This Graham…no one will really give me a straight answer."

Regina's jaw tensed. "Go on."

"What is he, like an ex-boyfriend or something?" he asked, crinkling his brow. Henry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to block out as much of the conversation as he could.

Regina had admitted to him that at one point, she had been having an affair with Graham. She obviously had been as vague as humanly possible about everything, but she had also mentioned that it had been an "unhealthy situation". That had been the part where Henry had put up his hand and said loudly, "Okay, that is plenty of information! Thank YOU!"

"Um…" Regina looked at Robin, struggling for words. "….Kind of?"

Robin raised an eyebrow. "He's kind of an ex-boyfriend? What does that mean?"

"Robin," Neal said loudly.

"Hmm?"

Neal jutted his head toward Henry, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. Robin's mouth formed a small "o".

"So… later, then?"

"Later," Regina agreed, grimacing.

The rest of breakfast passed much more smoothly as everyone turned their attention to the parade, pretending to be interested in the big, blown-up cartoon characters that no one actually cared for. Roland was delighted, clapping and giggling in the obnoxious way young children do. Henry propped his head up with one hand, watching with half-lidded as eyes as the latest teen pop star belted out a poorly-covered, synthesized rendition of "Frosty the Snowman".

"I loathe this song," Robin said unexpectedly, glaring at the screen. The other three turned their heads, looking at him in surprise. He glanced at them, frowning slightly. "What?"

"You hate 'Frosty the Snowman'?" Henry said in disbelief. "Dude, you're, like, the nicest person in the world. How can you hate a Christmas song?"

"I just don't understand why this song is supposed to be charming," Robin said, folding his arms."It's annoying, it's obnoxious, the lyrics are completely stupid—"

"It's for kids," Neal said, staring at him.

"And it sucks." Robin shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I have to put my foot down on this one. This is the worst Christmas song ever made, and they perform it every year, like some sort of ritualistic torture routine."

"You have no Christmas joy," Neal said, shaking his head. "You cynical bastard."

"I'm not cynical!" Robin protested. "I just don't think a talking snowman is endearing!"

"No one thinks it's endearing! There is a silent agreement between everyone over the age of—Henry, where you going?" Neal interrupted himself as Henry got up from the table.

"Upstairs, I guess. I don't know," he shrugged, turning to leave.

"Hang on," Neal said, making his way across the room. Henry raised a quizzical eyebrow as Neal put his hand on his shoulder and guided him to the family room. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Okay," Henry said uncertainly, taking a seat on the couch. Neal sat down beside him, rubbing his hands nervously. "What's up?"

Neal blew out a breath, his hands still twitching about. Henry frowned: his dad really wasn't the nervous type. Something had to be wrong. And that made Henry nervous.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, uh…" Neal looked up at the ceiling, bracing himself. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes briefly, then turned to Henry. "Okay, Henry, you know I try to stay out of your personal business and everything, but I got to break my rule this one time."

"Okay…" Henry raised an eyebrow. "Shoot."

Neal looked him dead in the eye. "You and your mom. What's the deal?"

"We haven't made an official deal per se, but from what I understand, she's going to help me with magic and I—"

"You know I'm talking about Emma."

Henry closed his mouth, eyeing him warily. "Nothing," he said at last. "Just a stupid fight."

Neal raised his eyebrows. "Yes, I'm totally buying that."

"It's nothing," Henry said, shifting his eyes away. Why was he doing this? They didn't talk about feelings, not like this. They didn't do heart-to-hearts. It was one of Henry's favorite things about Neal: he never pressured him to divulge all his personal thoughts and feelings, like everyone else did. He simply respected the fact that Henry was dealing with things like any other person, and sometimes he acted a little harsher for it.

"Look, I wouldn't bring it up, but Hook told me—"

"What does he know?" Henry said derisively.

"She was desperate enough to ask Hook for advice, Henry," Neal said deliberately. "What does that tell you?"

Henry rubbed his eyes. "It's just…" He made a frustrated noise. "God, Dad, I don't know, okay? I just flew off the handle the other day, can we just leave it at that?"

Neal exhaled slowly. "Does it have anything to do with Graham?"

Henry pulled at a loose string. "Ish."

"If it helps, I don't like him, either," Neal said bluntly. "He's freakishly nice. It's frightening."

"Mom doesn't seem to think so," Henry grumbled, still pulling the string.

"That's because he's what you call dreamy," Neal said, smiling tightly. "And apparently, he and Emma go way back, they've got this emotional connection thing or whatever."

"Douchebag."

"He is, Henry. He is," he said wisely, nodding his head.

"He's ruining everything."

Neal looked at the ground, frowning slightly. "Yeah, about that…."

"What?" Henry said flatly, raising his eyes. Neal offered him a half-hearted smile.

"Look, kid…even if Graham wasn't in the mix… there's no guarantee that your mom and I would—"

"I get it," Henry said, falling back on the couch. Why did everyone keep telling him that? He wasn't six years old, he understood perfectly well that "sometimes mommies and daddies didn't get along, but that didn't mean that they didn't love him". He knew there was a dwindling chance of his parents getting back together, especially now with Police Officer Pretty-Boy there. Did that mean he wasn't allowed to get frustrated? Emma had this whole emotional-walls thing going on. Henry had broken through them; and he'd seen her let other people in: Snow and David, maybe even a little Hook and Regina.

Neal, on the other hand, seemed to have one foot in and one foot out—like she kept pulling him in and pushing him out. Henry didn't know everything between them, but he watched from the sidelines as she tugged him back and forth. Emma didn't seem to care that what she did had an effect on the other person—or maybe she just didn't realize. And the truly frustrating thing was that Neal seemed to do the same thing. He had let Henry in, had let Hook in; even his father, who he thought he'd never forgive, was redeeming himself. But Emma had a foot in and a foot out. And every time he tried to let her in, she backed out; and every time she tried to let him in, he backed out; and so on and so forth.

They were so alike, so infuriatingly similar, and they didn't even realize it. It drove Henry nuts, watching his parents break each other down, simply because they couldn't get over their neuroticism and trust the other. And now Graham was really confusing things, and everything was falling to shit and getting all weird and awkward and complicated, so yes, it was a little bit frustrating.

And maybe a little bit pointless? Maybe it was just a waste of time, waiting around for something to happen. A waste of his time to emotionally invest in it; and a waste of everyone else's time worrying about him emotionally investing in it.

"You know what, Dad," Henry heard himself say. "I'm sure it's just some standard teen angst, okay? Next week, I'll go totally emo, break out the black nail polish and eyeliner, grow my bangs out—it'll be fun."

"Henry," Neal said exasperatedly as Henry got up from the couch, walking toward the stairs. "I'm trying to help."

Henry pulled his mouth back in a fake smile. "Great. Ask Hook for some eyeliner tips, then—don't say it's me asking."