Whatcha doing?

Henry grinned, dropping his pencil to text Violet back: Plotting to take over the world. You?

He waited, watching Emma across the kitchen table abandon her paperwork as her phone ping!ed with a text—probably Neal.

Emma was working from home today: apparently, Graham was up to his eyes in paperwork, and since she and Neal and Hook couldn't be trusted to actually work when they were together, Graham had given Emma a stack of paper and sent her home. Hook was (supposed to be) stuck at the station with Graham, but Neal had managed to trick him into thinking he was also working from home—even though he was really out apartment-hunting with Belle and Rumple: he and Emma had been texting back and forth all day.

Henry, on the other hand, had been texting Violet for the better part of the last week. Nothing, really, just some harmless back-and-forth…which, he had to admit, was kind of the highlight of his day, lately. He was surrounded by couples, left and right: it was a nice escape to be able to tune them out and talk to someone his own age in the hashtag, emoticon language that no one else in his family really understood. Actually, he'd been enjoying it so much, that he kinda forgot to feel upset about Hook and Ruby. Ruby was still cool and everything, but suddenly less interesting.

If you take over the world, can you change Burrito Friday to Pizza Friday?

"That doesn't sound like homework, Henry," Emma said absently, hearing him laughingly scoff at Violet's text.

"You're not doing paperwork," he argued back. Emma put down her phone to look at him reproachfully.

"Henry," she said, putting a hand to her heart. "I am texting your father. We are discussing your future. Is that not more important than—" she waved her hand disgustedly at the papers—" than this?"

"Right, okay…You're discussing my future…"

"We are," Emma insisted.

Henry raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Okay, that, and whether or not cats have feelings."

"There it is."

"But come on!" she said pleadingly. "How can cats have feelings? All they do is sleep and hide under furniture!"

"Yeah, but so do little kids," Henry pointed out. "And they have feelings."

"Of course he agrees with Neal," Emma muttered. "Big surprise."

"I'm sorry, Mom, but I honestly think—"

Emma waved his words away. "Whatever, Henry."

Henry rolled his eyes, his fingers rapidly pressing the the keyboard buttons as he texted Violet: My parents are literally having an argument over whether or not cats have feelings. This is my life.

A minute passed, and then—

Your parents are weird.

"Right?" he muttered, ready to type back when a hand suddenly snatched his phone out of his fingers. "Hey!"

"Mom!" Emma exclaimed as Snow snatched her phone up, too. "I was in the middle of—"

"You two aren't getting anything done!" Snow scolded. "And you're not getting these back until you've finished!"

"I was texting Neal," Emma said deliberately. Everyone was well-aware of how much Snow approved of Neal; and since he and Emma had started dating again, her love had grown, if possible, stronger.

But not strong enough to earn Emma her phone back.

"You have a responsibility to this town," Snow said sternly. "And Graham can't handle this all by himself—the man just came back from the dead a few weeks ago."

"He can handle it," Emma said confidently. "And besides, it's just paperwork. Graham's a perfectionist, that's why he's stressed out."

"Regardless, you can't keep texting Neal about—" Snow frowned at the screen—"cats?"

Emma looked down at her hands, somewhat embarrassed. "We got lost on a tangent," she shrugged.

"And Henry, you've got way too much schoolwork to catch up on to be texting…who's Violet?"

"Violet?" Emma frowned, her head snapping up. "Who the hell is Violet?"

"No one," Henry said hastily. "My lab partner in Bio, we had a project—"

"This is a lot of texting for a lab partner," Snow remarked, scrolling her thumb across the screen. Henry stood up, reaching for his phone.

"You can't read my texts, Grandma!"

"'My parents are literally arguing about cats. This is my life'," Snow read out, struggling to keep the phone away from him. "'Your parents are weird'."

"We're not weird!" Emma gasped, offended. "That bitch!"

"Henry, who is this girl?" Snow asked, giving up and handing him back his phone. Her eyes lit up, and she gasped. "You like her."

"Oh, my God," Henry said loudly, raising his eyes to the ceiling. "Why are you awkward?"

"Henry's got a girlfriend—"

"Stop saying that!" Emma said, covering her ears. She glowered at Henry's phone. "She is not his girlfriend. Right, Henry? Right, Henry?"

"She's not my girlfriend."

"There, you see?" Emma dropped her hands, still fuming. "Not his girlfriend."

Snow shrugged, unconvinced. "Of course, she isn't."

"Does Regina know about this?" Emma demanded.

"There's nothing to know—Mom, don't!" he said as Emma reached for her phone. "Come on, she's got enough on her mind without you bothering her about this."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," Emma scoffed. Henry frowned. Did she…know?

"I think I might," he said carefully. Emma flicked her eyes upward derisively.

"Sure, you do," she snorted. "I'd love to hear what you think constitutes as an adult-worry. Your biggest problem is trying to remember the quadratic formula."

Henry raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, but that's not Regina's biggest worry. I know what her biggest worry is."

Emma looked over at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You don't know."

"Don't I?" he challenged, lifting his chin.

Snow looked between the two of them, her eyes alert. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Don't worry about it, Mom," Emma said, not taking her eyes off Henry. "I'm fairly confident Henry doesn't know what we're talking about."

They continued to eye each other suspiciously. Snow looked down as Emma's phone ping!ed, and silently put it in Emma's outstretched hand. Emma briefly broke eye contact to skim her text, slightly frowning.

"'Go ahead and tell. Hook knows, and he's threatening to tell everyone, anyway," she read out, then glanced up at Henry. "Okay, what do you know?"

"I know that she's going to get a lot of gift cards for Babies 'R' Us in a few months."

"Okay, so you do know," Emma grimaced, ignoring Snow's loud gasp as she staggered backwards. "Hmm."

"She told me the morning we went to pick up Grandpa and Belle at the airport."

"I HAVE TO TELL DAVID!" Snow shouted suddenly, running for the phone. Henry picked up his phone, which Snow had let go clattering to the floor.

"All right," he said, turning it over to check for scratches. "You can text everybody the big news, I've got homework to finish."

"And girls to text," Emma muttered. Henry rolled his eyes.

"It's one girl. And she's just my friend. I'm allowed to have friends, aren't I?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU ALREADY KNEW?"

Emma and Henry whipped around: Snow was fuming, her face turning bright red as she listened to David's frantic backpedaling.

"I'm going to go find your dad," Emma said hurriedly. "You should stay with her, we've got things to discuss."

"Mom!" Henry gasped, feeling betrayed. "You can't leave me here with her! Are you insane?"

"Things to do, kid! Try to calm her down!" Emma threw over her shoulder as she disappeared out the door. Henry stared after her, open-mouthed. His own mother. She left him—with Snow?

"OH, YOU BET YOUR ASS, WE'LL DISCUSS THIS MORE AT HOME!"

Henry looked miserably over as Snow slammed the phone down. She looked up, glaring at him.

"Now you tell me, and you tell me right now: who the fuck is Violet?"

Belle walked in a slow circle as she studied the apartment, her hands behind her back. "It's nice, Neal," she said thoughtfully, coming to a stop. "Do you like it?"

Neal twisted his mouth to the side indecisively, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know."

"What's not to know?" Rumple scoffed, leaning his head back to admire the stairs. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah, but it's so close to David and Snow's," Neal complained. "I don't want to live three doors down from my girlfriend's parents. It would be weird."

"No weirder than texting said girlfriend about cats all day," Belle muttered. Neal's phone had been going off all day with text alerts from Emma. At first, Belle thought it might have been work questions (Neal had looked rather frustrated at one point); but then she glanced over his shoulder, and read a paragraph Emma sent him about why cats didn't have feelings.

They had a …strange relationship, Belle decided.

"Now, Neal…I have to ask—" Rumple put his hands in his pockets, shifting into what Belle thought of as his "important-landlord" pose. "How many people are you planning on moving into this apartment?"

Neal raised an eyebrow. "What are you getting at?"

"Well…" Rumple shrugged, glancing around the room awkwardly. "Are you…how to put this delicately….are you and Emma—?"

"Rumple!" Belle hissed, elbowing him. "Don't you dare ask him that! It's way too early!"

"It's nearly five o'clock."

"That's not remotely funny," Belle said witheringly. "Now, don't bug him about Emma, you're going to freak him out."

"Well, if I don't ask, I'm never going to know!" Rumple said indignantly. "He didn't tell me they were dating! He's not going to tell me if they're moving in together, if they're getting married—!"

"No one's moving in or getting married!" Neal said loudly. "I'm getting an apartment because I need my own space, that's it!"

"And one day, it's going to be Emma's space, too, and I'm not going to know, because you're not going to tell me, because you don't trust me!"

"You're getting ahead of yourself," Neal told him, putting up a hand. "Slow your roll, Dad—we haven't even been out yet, technically speaking."

"Really?" Belle crinkled her brow. "Still?"

"We're laid-back," he shrugged.

"Well, there's laid-back, and then there's comatose." Belle folded her arms. "Seriously, Neal—take her out or something, buy her dinner."

"We're going out Friday night," he said, pulling out his phone as it ping!ed again. "To that Italian place."

"Oh?" Belle nodded, considering. "That's a nice place."

"Yeah, it is…" he said absently, frowning at the screen.

"Just don't break any lamps there," Belle went on. She had come home to find out her favorite Japanese lamp had been broken while Neal was house-sitting. Apparently, he and Emma had been playing floor hockey in the house, and the puck had slammed into it hard enough to send it toppling to the floor. If it had been anyone else, she would have doubted that story, but since it was Neal and Emma…she didn't know: floor hockey could very well be part of a date. Along with throwing Cheerios at each other and exploding Mentos in soda.

"Something wrong?" Belle asked, frowning as Neal continued to stare at the screen.

"Uh…" Neal blinked a few times, shaking his head to clear it. "No. No, I just, uh…got this text from Emma about Regina…" He dropped the phone in his pocket, still shaking his head. "Okay, so anyways, uh…Let's talk rent, Dad. How much a month for this place?"

"You like it?" Rumple perked up. "You're going to take it?"

Neal folded his arms, tilting his head back as he turned in a slow circle. "…I think so."

"Even though it's three doors away from Emma's parents?"

"Well, there's that…but it's also three doors away from Emma and Henry, so there's also that." Neal nodded, still looking around the place. "Yeah, I think this is it."

Belle immediately looked to Rumple. Ask him about New York, she mouthed, motioning him quickly. Rumple nodded and cleared his throat.

"So, Neal."

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking…"

"Okay?"

"You know, your New York apartment?"

"Dad, I told you. I'm not moving back to New York, but I still have to wait until the lease is up—"

"No, I know," Rumple said over him. "But I was wondering if you'd consider—"

The door burst open as Emma strode in, breathing hard.

"Em, what are you doing here?" Neal frowned. "I thought you were with—"

"There's a Violet," Emma cut in, her mouth set in a grim line. "A girl."

Neal looked at Belle and Rumple quizzically, as if they might have some better idea of what she was talking about; and turned back to Emma. "Are we still talking about Regina's baby?"

"HER WHAT?" Belle and Rumple shouted. Regina Mills? A baby? What the fuck was this universe coming to? Regina Mills didn't go around having babies! She wore pantsuits and everything! She was a powerful, no-nonsense, cold-hearted business woman, with stiletto-daggered heels that she used to walk over those beneath her! She didn't have babies!

Emma shrugged dismissively. "Regina's having a baby, whatever. The point is—" she glared at Neal—"Henry's texting a Violet."

"Did you know about this?" Rumple demanded, grabbing Neal's elbow to whip him around. "Did you know about this and not tell me?"

"I only knew about it two seconds ago!"

"Not Violet!" Rumple cried exasperatedly. "Who gives a flying fuck about Violet? Did you know about this baby? Did you? Did you?"

"I just found out ten minutes ago, get off, Dad!" Neal tugged his arm out of Rumple's grip, looking at him incredulously. "You're acting like a crazy person!"

"You found out ten minutes ago that your sister is having a baby, and you didn't tell me?" Rumple threw up his hands furiously. "Well, I'd like to say I'm surprised at you, but this is typical Neal! Didn't tell me about Emma! Didn't tell me about Regina's baby! What else are you hiding from me?"

"DAD, SHUT UP!" Neal shouted, fighting to be heard over Rumple's tirade. He gripped his shoulders, looking at him intently. "You have to calm down, okay?"

"Give me your phone," Rumple growled. "I need to make a call."

"Who do you need to call?" Neal said, dropping his hands, looking at him the way a teacher does a particularly difficult child.

"The members of my book club, I just have to talk some Eat, Pray, Love! Who do you think?"

Neal made a bemused sound as Rumple suddenly reached into his jacket pocket, whipping out his furiously punched in a number, and held it to his ear. Neal tried to reach for it.

"Leave her alone, she's not going to—"

"Regina?" Rumple started to pace the floor, breathing unevenly. "Is it true?"

Belle exchanged a worried glance with Neal: God help Regina, this was going to get ugly.

"And who may I ask is the father?" Rumple demanded, pounding up the stairs to yell in privacy. They all three watched him go, tilting their heads up until the door slammed behind him. Instantly, Emma whirled back to Neal.

"He's texting a girl, Neal! This is a disaster!"

"Emma, calm down! God, why is everyone losing their shit today? He's fifteen years old, of course he's texting a girl!"

"Violet," Emma spat venomously. "Its name is Violet."

"Okay. Fine. He's texting Violet, so what?"

"So what?" Emma looked at him incredulously. "He's only four years younger than I was when I gave birth to him! And you want to know so what?"

"This is getting awkward," Belle said over Neal's response, as if talking loud enough would erase this conversation from her head. "I'm going to go…stare at random people outside or something."

"The little slut!" was the last thing Belle heard before she closed the door behind her. She leaned against it, looking up at the ceiling.

Every time things seemed like they were just about to settle down…something else came along, and fucked it all up. Just when she was getting used to the idea of Cruella and Ursula and Lily, Regina had to have a baby, and Henry had to have a girlfriend.

Why was this family such a magnet for drama?